Garrett is his name
by McLance
Summary: Harlie gets a job working in the local veterinary office, building new relationships, and learning new things. She must deal with the first real loss in her life of a person that she loves.
1. Chapter 1

Afterwards, I couldn't figure out why the idea had never occurred to me before. It was the perfect job for me. That morning I'd gone with

Guthrie and Crane to town. Crane was at the feed store, and he and Guthrie were loading up

enough feed to last the week. While they were doing that, Crane sent me to the hardware store,

to buy a new hammer, because all the others they used were getting so old that the handles were breaking.

When I went into the hardware store, Mr. Baker, the owner, greeted me with a friendly smile.

"Good mornin' to you, Harlie. How are you?"

"I'm fine, Mr. Baker, thank you."

"How's the family?"

"Everybody's doing good."

"That baby's due to come real soon, isn't he?"

"In about a month."

"Ya'll ready for a little one at your house?"

I assured him that we were all really excited for the baby to be born.

"Well, what can I do for you today, Harlie?"

"Crane says to get a hammer."

"What kind of a hammer?" he asked, waving me over to the wall where a multitude of hammers

were hanging.

"Was he wanting a claw hammer, or a ball peen, or which?" he questioned.

To me, a hammer was a hammer. I mean, I thought they were all the same, pretty much,

weren't they? Apparently not, if the array of them on the wall was anything to go by.

"Um, I don't know. Just a regular one, I guess," I said, pointing at the one he called a claw hammer.

"Well, we'll try this one," he said, taking one down, "and if it's not what Crane wants, he can bring it back,

alright?"

"Yes, sir, that's fine."

While Mr. Baker was ringing up the price of the hammer, and putting it into a sack, I

laid the money Crane had given me down on the counter, and stepped over to read

the ads on the bulletin board. One caught my eye, jumping out at me. I read it over, my

excitement mounting.

'Wanted: Teenager to help in vet office. See Doc G'

I said goodbye to Mr. Baker, and took the hammer, and instead of going back across the

street to the feed store, I went straight down, to Doc G's office.

I pushed the heavy front door open, and went inside. The front office was deserted,

and even the ringing of the bell over the door didn't bring Doc G to the front. I knew he had to be

around somewhere though, or he would have locked the door.

I stuck my head thru the swinging doors that led to the back, but still didn't see Doc G.

I called out to him, but there was no answer. He must be outside, I thought, and as I

would have headed towards the back, the telephone rang.

I hesitated, wondering whether I should answer or not. After the fourth ring,

I picked it up. "Vet office," I answered, laying the sack with the hammer in it on the desk, and hoping I sounded professional.

"Let me talk to Doc," came a loud booming voice across the telephone wire.

"He's not available," I said.

"What? Speak up!"

Whoever it was, was quite obviously hard of hearing. I raised my voice and settled for,

"Doc's busy. Can I take a message?"

"Who is this?" the voice bellowed.

"This is Harlie McFadden," I said.

"Who?"

"Harlie McFadden!" I said, feeling like I was practically yelling.

"McFadden? You Adam's girl?"

I wasn't sure whether whoever it was meant Adam, or my dad, Adam, Sr., but I figured

it was the same, either way.

"Yes, that's right."

"Tell him Dale DeHoff called, and I need him out to my place soon as he can make it.

Tell him I've got a mare down."

"Alright. What's your address?" I asked, grabbing a pencil and paper from the desk.

"Girlie, I've been in the same location for thirty years. Doc knows where my place is. Tell

him to hurry."

And just like that, the phone clicked in my ear.

I rubbed at my ear, feeling like I could still hear him yelling into the phone. Good grief.

Just as I started towards the back again, the phone rang for the second time. I answered on the second

ring this time, figuring I might as well.

"Vet office."

The lady on the other end informed me that she needed to talk to Doc G. She was so excited

that I had trouble understanding her. But I managed to gather enough facts to determine it was

Mrs. Cole and that her cat, Petey, was vomiting and lethargic.

I took her phone number, and assured her that I would give Doc G the message as soon as possible.

I made my way thru the room that makes up Doc's examination and surgery area, and headed to

the outside doors. I could hear voices as I stepped outside.

There was Doc G, his shoulder braced against the weight of a horse's shoulder, while he looked over the

leg in his hand. Reagan Clark stood there, holding the reins, and talking to Doc.

Reagan had been in Ford's class at school, so I don't know her overly well, but she has the reputation

for being one of those 'spoiled rancher's daughters' that you see on old television shows. Her father

has a good-sized ranch in the area, and Reagan is a member of the flag patrol, which is the cowgirls

around here that ride in parades and the entry at rodeos, doing tricks in sparkly outfits.

She nodded at me, but kept on talking. Or complaining, more like. Something about a parade the next

weekend that she needed to travel to across the state.

She was asking Doc G what he could do so her horse would be able to go. I stepped to the side

and could tell from where I stood that her horse's knee was swollen.

"I need him ready to perform next weekend," she complained. "He's slow."

Without looking up from his perusal of the horse's leg, Doc G said, "I told you last week

to give this horse a rest, missy. so he could heal up. You've only made it worse."

"Yes, I know," Reagan said, "but I needed him."

Doc G continued talking, as though she hadn't spoken. "I heard your daddy tell you the same as

I did." He put the leg down gently, and stood up, giving Reagan a level look.

"But I needed him for a show," Reagan said, with a pouting look.

"Well, he needs rest."

"Okay," Reagan said, sounding reluctant. "But do you think if he rests all week he can perform

next weekend?"

"I can't say. It's possible. If you take this animal home, he must rest, and have hot packs applied

every few hours to that leg."

"I've got things to do," Reagan said. "I'll leave him here with you, alright? I'll have one of the

hands pick him up on Thursday. Just send the bill to Daddy."

Doc G didn't answer, he just looked grim, and turned back to the horse.

"Bye, Harlie," Reagan said, and climbed into her shiny black Ford truck, and roared down the

back alley.

For the first time, Doc G turned to acknowledge me. "Hullo there, Harlie Mac. How are you

this fine mornin'?"

"Fine. How are you?"

"I'm in need of a cup of coffee." He smiled at me from his tanned, lined face.

"I make good coffee," I said.

"Do you now? Well, that's fine. I might have you go start a pot for me."

I nodded, and come forward to pet Reagan's horse. I trailed my hand down his side,

and leaned over to look more closely at his leg.

"It's pretty swollen," I said.

"Yep."

"Evan would kill me if I kept riding a horse after they had an irritated tendon like this," I said,

patting the horse's neck again.

"I suspect that's right," Doc G agreed. "But the difference is, you wouldn't do it, would you?"

I shook my head. "No. I wouldn't."

Doc G led the horse towards the barn behind the building.

He walked slowly, to allow for the horse's limp, and I walked along with him.

"What brings you by today, Harlie Mac? Polly and that foal doin' alright?"

"Yes. They're doing good. I wanted to talk to you."

"Well, I'm always glad for a chance to visit with you."

I thought I'd better relay the messages. "When I came in, the phone was ringing. Dale

DeHoff says he needs you to come to his place, that he has a mare down. He wants you

to get there as quickly as you can."

Doc nodded. "So you got to talk to old Dale, did you? What did you think?"

I had to smile. "He sounds like a character."

"Well, he's that alright."

I filled him in on the other call, about Petey the cat.

"I'll give her a call," Doc G said, in his unhurried manner. "Petey is like her child."

After the horse was secure in a stall, with water, I offered to fork some hay for him.

"If you'll do that, I'll go call and check on Petey," Doc G said, looking appreciative.

When I came back into the building from the back, and went to the office, Doc G was

on the phone, reassuring Mrs. Cole that Petey would be fine, and giving her instructions. With

a promise to stop by her house later that day, Doc G hung up.

"Whew," he said.

"Busy day, huh?" I asked, going to the coffee pot and measuring out two scoops to start it with.

"Every day is a busy day, it seems."

"Do you have time for coffee?" I asked, stopping and turning to look at him. "Or do you need

to go to Mr. DeHoff's?"

Doc G waved a hand. "I'll take time for coffee," he said, and I turned to finish filling the water.

"After all, if you hadn't come in and answered my phone, I wouldn't have gotten the call until I

listened to the messages anyway."

I nodded, and Doc G settled himself on the edge of the desk. "Thank you for that, by the way," he said.

"Answering my phone for me."

"It's okay," I said.

"Come and sit down," Doc G told me, gesturing to the chair beside the desk.

When I'd sat down, he said, "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"I was at the hardware store," I said. "I saw your note on the bulletin board."

"Ahhh," Doc G said, nodding in understanding.

I sat up straight and tall in the chair. "I'm thinking about veterinary school. At least, that's my

plans. I'm trying hard to keep my grades high. Crane took me to SC Davis, to the veterinary hospital, and

it was so incredible! I'd like to apply for the job here with you."

I stopped to take a breath, and then forged forward again. "I'd do a good job. I know

I could learn a lot here with you. I think I have a good feeling for animals, and I'm willing

to do whatever you tell me-"

Doc G held up a hand to hush me. "Hold up a minute, there, Harlie Mac," he said, and I

closed my mouth.

"I'm lookin' for someone to help out around here, that's a fact. And I have no quarrel with anything

you've said. There's likely no young'un around these parts that knows animals any better than you."

I sat up even straighter, feeling my hopes rise.

"Have you talked to the boys about this?" he asked, and I knew by 'boys' he meant Adam and Brian

and Crane.

"Well, no. I just saw it this morning, and I wanted to get here to talk to you-"

"Uh huh. Well, don't you think you should talk it over with them before you go applyin'

for a regular job?"

"I thought I'd see what you said first," I admitted, my voice trailing off.

"Hmm," he said. "What do you think they'll have to say about it?"

"Brian will be all for it," I said, with confidence. "He'll think it's great."

"How about Adam and Crane?"

"Well," I hesitated, and then said honestly, "They'll probably both take a little more convincing.

You know how brothers are. Crane worries-"

"They're good boys, all of them," he said, straying from the subject.

I nodded, and brought it back around.

"I thought you'd probably had a lot of kids apply for the job."

"Well, I've had a few that I've been thinkin' over. Bette Ross seems to be the main one."

"Bette?" I asked, and lost a little of my sizzle. I wouldn't have thought Bette Ross would

feel at home in a vet office, where she might get dirty and smelly, but maybe there was more

to her than meets the eye.

"That's right," Doc G said, getting up to go and pour himself a cup of the just brewed coffee.

He turned back to survey me. "Think Bette would do well here?" he asked me.

I hesitated, not wanting to voice my real opinion. It would make me look like I was

the jealous type, and sound petty.

"I couldn't really say," I said carefully. "I guess if she loves animals, she might do alright."

Doc G smiled, and took a sip of the coffee.

"Mighty good coffee," he said.

"Thanks."

I sighed a little, and stood up. "I guess I'd better go find Crane and Guthrie. Crane's probably

wondering where I am."

"I don't think we're done talkin' yet, are we?" he asked.

I looked at him, a little confused, and he shook his head a little.

"Just whoa up there a minute, young lady, and sit back down."

Well, I sat, looking at him curiously.

"I think if a person were to measure you and Bette in this situation, well, there's no real

doubt as to who would come out ahead."

It was then that I saw the twinkle in his blue eyes, and realized he'd been teasing me about Bette.

"I'd be mighty proud to have you workin' here with me, Harlie Mac," he said,

and once his words sunk in, I grinned at him.

"Thanks, Doc!"

"Well, this is an every Saturday job, mostly in the mornings, 7 to noon. To help clean up, answer the phones

like you did today, maybe go out on some calls with me, to fetch and carry. If you can get a ride in here, most times I'll

be able to get you home again, unless you have your own way. You driving yet?"

"I drive, but I don't have a car. Well, not a dependable one, anyway."

"That's not a problem. We can manage the transportation. Pay is five bucks an hour. Still think you're interested?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Well, you talk it over with the boys. If you get their permission, then we'll give it a go."

By the time I'd headed back to the feed store, my thoughts were full of excitement. So full, in fact,

that I nearly ran into Guthrie as he came down the sidewalk towards me.

"Where in the heck have you been?" he demanded.

"I was talking to Doc G-"

"Well, Crane's gettin' antsy. You better get a move on."

"Okay." We started down the sidewalk together, back towards the feed store. Crane was

just coming from the opposite side of the street, where he'd obviously been in search of me, too.

"Hey," I said, holding out the sack to him. "Here's the hammer."

Crane took it, with a measuring glance at me. "I do have other things to get done today,

you know," he said dryly.

On a scale of 1 to 10, he sounded like he was at an irritated five or a six.

"I was talking to Doc G," I told him. "I'm sorry I held you up."

"Well, at least tell me next time before you disappear," he said.

"Okay." I smiled at him, knowing that I was lucky that was all he was going to say about it.

All the way home I was thinking my own thoughts, about how great it was going to be working

with Doc G, and getting some real experience, besides making some money of my own. I was in the

middle of the truck seat, while Guthrie and Crane talked across me.

I didn't realize they were talking to me, until Guthrie gave me a nudge.

"Earth to hyena," he said.

"Huh?" I asked, blinking at him.

"Crane's talking to ya," Guthrie said, snapping his gum.

I looked at Crane. "What did you say?"

"I just asked how Doc was."

"He's fine. He's real busy." I gave Crane a sideways glance, wondering if I should start working

on him now about the job, or wait. Sometimes Crane is a softy about things, and then other times, he can

be real strict about stuff. And, since I was having a tutor to help me with math, and getting ready in January to

start taking an English class that was going to take up a lot of time, I knew that would be his main

concern with me having a job. Well, that and also my diabetes. He and Adam were still watching me pretty carefully

to make sure I was doing my shot every day, but there had been a couple times over the last

week that I'd done it on my own, and then told them. I was hoping they would start loosening up

a little, and give me another chance to be responsible about it.

"He had a lot going on today," I continued. "I answered the phone for him a couple times."

"That's good," Crane said.

"He was going to be run ragged today," I said, maintaining my casual tone.

"I heard he's lookin' for somebody to help out," Guthrie interjected into the conversation.

I turned and gave Guthrie a dark look, shaking my head slightly at him.

"What?" he asked me, puzzled.

"Nothing," I said, but I dug my elbow into his ribs.

"Is he?" Crane asked. "Well, that's probably a good thing, if he has somebody to help

him out."

It was the perfect opening. I started to say something about the job, but then Crane

asked me if I had my homework done. Since I didn't, and since I had a lot of it to do, I decided

it wasn't the right time after all. The thought occurred to me then, that it might go the best if

I talked to Brian first. Then I'd have his support when I talked to Adam and Crane.

Since there had been unusual amount of rain the last week or so, I put on my tall chore boots

to go out to do chores in. I hung around outside most of the afternoon, pitching in with

whatever the guys were working on. That's what put me in the vicinity of Brian in the south pasture,

helping him string fence. I had to put my muscles to use, but I gave it everything I had.

Finally, the hardest part was done, and I was standing beside Brian, while he clamped a fence

post.

"Thanks for your help, peach," Brian told me.

"It's okay. I was actually glad to have the chance to talk to you alone."

"Yeah? You have somethin' to talk to me about?"

"Uh huh." I took the fence cutters he was holding out to me. "Doc G needs some help on Saturdays.

Answering the phone and cleaning up. And going out on calls with him, to sort of be a gopher."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. Today, I actually went to ask him for the job."

Brian leaned against the fence post, and took off his leather gloves.

"Well, what'd he say?"

"He said the job is mine. Or it is, if I get permission from you guys."

"Well, it'd be a good experience for you."

"I think so, too. I really want to do it, Bri."

"All I have to say is, if you do it, give it 100 percent. Doc deserves that from you."

"I would, I promise."

Brian nodded, pounding down another fence post.

"So what's the obstacle?" he asked, and when I raised my eyebrow at him, he

chuckled a little.

"Crane, right? And Adam?"

"Not Adam so much as Crane. But they're both going to say I have too much going on."

"Sounds pretty likely," Brian agreed.

"Will you help me out? Speak up and say you think it's a good idea?" I asked.

"Well, I'll be there with you for moral support. How's that?"

"But if I need more than moral support, will you speak up?" I insisted.

"It's up to you to convince them you can handle it. But if you really need me, I'll put

in my two cents. Alright?"

"Two cents is good," I grinned at him. "But I figure it might take three or four."

7


	2. Early eggs

Sitting on the front porch steps later that evening after supper, I told Guthrie about the job. He

was glad for me, just as I'd known he would be.

"That's great, Har," he said. "How much will you be makin'?"

"Five dollars an hour."

"That's not too bad," he said, and his eyes lit up. "Maybe you can save up, and start getting body work

done on the Beast."

The Beast, of which Guthrie spoke so fondly, was the nickname bestowed upon the 1964 El Camino

that he, and Evan and Ford had presented me with on my birthday last month. It ran, somewhat anyway,

but the body was crusted, and rusted, and dented in more places than not. It was what Adam called

a 'project car'. Since Adam said we couldn't take it out on the road until it had an engine overhaul, and

new tires, it remained mostly in it's home territory behind the barn, untagged and uninsured. Although Guthrie

and I and sometimes Ford and Evan drove it out thru the pasture and along the edges of our fence line, just

for fun. Evan said it didn't much matter if we ran over a thorn or anything else sharp in the pasture, since

the tires were pretty much done for anyway. The boys had been so proud when they gave it to me, seeing

all sorts of great possibilities in it.

"See, it's half car, and half truck," Evan had explained with a grin. "We knew you wanted a truck, but

this will work until you can get somethin' better."

Adam shook his head, looking unconvinced, and Crane had looked skeptical. Brian had out and out laughed

at the Beast, but I thought it was a great present, even if I didn't quite have the same ability as the boys to envision

everything in it that they could see.

"That's because you're a chick," Evan had told me. "But you'll see, one of these days, this thing

will be the talk of Murphys."

I called Evan a male chauvinist for calling me a chick, and Brian said it could already be the talk, or the laugh,

of Murphys, if anybody in town got a look at it.

Anyway, when Guthrie suggested I use the money I earned to go towards work on the Beast, I

nodded, but another idea was occurring to me, as well. I knew the family's money situation hadn't really

improved all that much in the last month or so. If anything, things were even tighter, money-wise, because

Hannah had to go to the doctor every two weeks now instead of once a month, since the baby's arrival

was getting closer. There was the cost of my tutor now, too, and the rising cost of food that Crane was

always complaining about. We'd had a lot of vet bills lately, too. Daniel was still sending money regularly,

and Evan had gotten that job helping break horses for a rancher near Angels Camp, and I knew he

was contributing money to the household, too. Ford had a part-time job, while he was going to college,

but he mostly used that money for his own stuff, so that his needs wouldn't come out of the family

coffers.

My idea was that if I didn't take any money from Doc G for my wages, but instead told him to

apply it to the running total that our family always seemed to owe him, I could help out that way.

The more I thought about it, the more excited I got.

After awhile, Guthrie and I weren't the only ones on the front porch. First Adam and Hannah came out,

taking over the porch swing. Then Brian and Clare drifted out, and Crane, too. We were complete except

for Evan, who came out carrying a piece of chocolate cake, saying goodbye to everybody and

going off to see his Nancy.

I felt a gentle nudge in my back, and turned to look up at Brian, who nodded towards

Adam and Crane. I looked over at them, and then back at Brian, who nodded again, encouragingly.

I turned sideways so that I was facing the porch swing. Adam gave the swing a kick-start with

the toe of his boot, and reached over to hold Hannah's hand.

"I have some news," I started out by saying.

Adam and Crane both looked at me questioningly, and Hannah smiled at me.

"What's your news, sweetie?" she asked.

"I talked to Doc G in town this morning," I said.

"Oh, how is he?" Hannah asked.

"He's fine. He's real busy."

"I don't think he ever stops movin'," Adam said, and Crane nodded in agreement.

"He's got the energy of a man half his age," Crane said.

"Is he still seeing Maggie Horne?" Hannah asked Adam.

"I don't know, I haven't heard," Adam answered. "Do you know, Brian?"

"No, I don't know," Brian told him.

"She's a nice woman," Hannah said thoughtfully.

I looked up at Brian, from where I was sitting, wondering how the conversation had gotten so completely

away from the topic I was striving for.

Brian shrugged, and mouthed the words 'go on' to me.

"He's needing some help on Saturday mornings," I said.

"It's about time he had some help," Crane said, and before I lost the thread of the conversation

again, I said, in a rush, "He says I can have the job if you say it's alright."

I had their attention now, for sure, and I forged ahead quickly, "It's from 7 to noon on Saturdays, and he

says if I got there, he could get me home usually."

Adam looked like he was about to say something, and I said quickly, "This would be great experience for me, and

you know how much I could learn from him."

Adam looked dubious. "Now, Harlie, slow down a minute-"

"It's only on Saturday mornings," I repeated.

"You said that already," he pointed out.

"It's a good way for me to learn responsibility, don't you think?" I said. I hated playing my ace this soon in the

conversation, but like I said, Adam looked dubious, and the expression on Crane's face did not bode well for what I

wanted to do.

"You have enough on your plate right now," Crane said. "And getting ready to take on more. What about the

class you want to start next month?"

"January," I corrected him.

"What?" he asked.

"It's actually January when I start the class," I said, "when we go back after Christmas break."

"Alright, fine," he said, "January. Are you not going to do that, then?"

"No, I'm going to."

"Your regular classes, and your tutoring sessions, and senior English? And now you think you can take on a

job, too?"

"It's only-" I began in protest.

Crane held up a hand to forestall me. "I know. I know. It's only on Saturdays. I heard."

"Saturday mornings," I clarified.

"I heard that part, too," Crane said, dryly.

"I'm sorry," I told him. "I'm just so excited."

"And it's great that you're so excited about it," Adam said. "But we need to discuss it with you, maybe point

out some things you haven't thought about."

I had my mouth open to tell him that I'd thought of every argument they could throw my way, but I felt

another nudge in my back, this one not so gentle, and I knew it was Brian's way of telling me to shut up.

"Okay," I said.

"Crane's right about you havin' a lot going on," Adam said. "And you've got to take care of yourself, sugar."

I had to bite my lip to keep from saying something I shouldn't.

I felt the joy of earlier deflating like a balloon. Just once I'd like to discuss something important without my

diabetes being thrown into the mix.

"I know my health is important," I told him quietly, and then looked at Crane. "And I know my school work

comes first. But this is important, too."

Something in my voice must have touched a nerve for Adam because he looked at Brian, standing behind me.

"You're awfully quiet over there. Don't you have anything to say about this?"

"I think it could be a good thing for her," Brian said. "She could at least give it a try."

"Well, if she starts, she needs to try to keep on with it. It wouldn't be fair to Doc if she didn't," Adam said.

They were talking across me as if I wasn't sitting there, but I stayed quiet, because at least it was still

an open subject.

"I think she'd do a good job for Doc, and she could learn a lot, like she said," Brian said.

"Yeah," Adam said. He looked back at me again. "Would you give it your best?"

"Yes, Adam! I would."

"Your health is the most important thing," Adam said, looking serious.

"I understand that. I'll be careful, I promise. I won't mess up again," I assured him.

Adam gave me a long thoughtful look, while I held my breath. Into the silence, Hannah spoke

up. "What all would you be doing if you took the job, sweetie?" she asked me, and I gave her

a grateful glance, recognizing her support.

"Answer the phone, help out around the office, and go out on calls with him sometimes," I told her.

"It sounds like it would be interesting," Clare spoke up.

Adam looked towards Crane. "What do you think?" he asked.

"I've got reservations about it," Crane said. "What if you get overwhelmed, Harlie?"

As far as I knew, Crane had kept the cheating I'd confessed to to himself, which I was

grateful for. I knew he had more reasons to be reluctant than anybody else, since the last

time I was under pressure, I'd done the wrong thing. I focused on his face intently, and I

knew he understood that I got his meaning.

I was going to say that I wouldn't get overwhelmed, but I knew that wouldn't impress him at all,

since I very easily might.

"If I do, I'll talk to somebody about it. I'll be responsible," I promised.

"It's okay with me," Adam said.

I smiled at him, and then looked at Crane again.

"Please, Crane?"

Still looking unconvinced, Crane said, "Alright."

I squealed in excitement, and got up, going over to lean down and hug Adam, and then Crane.

I wanted to make them proud of me, and I was determined to do just that.

"If you get to feeling bad, or your grades go down, then we'll have to rethink the whole thing,"

Adam warned me.

"Yes, okay," I said, brushing his concerns out of my mind.

7

The next Saturday, I was so excited I woke up early, and instead of going back to sleep, I

got dressed, and, carrying my boots in one hand, went downstairs. Hannah and Adam were sitting

in the living room, close together on the couch, while Adam held his ever-present cup of coffee.

They both said good morning to me.

"Morning," I said.

"You're up early," Adam commented.

"Too excited, I guess," I said.

"There's eggs and bacon on the stove," Hannah told me. It occurred to me, even at that moment, that

nobody but ranchers and farmers would understand eggs and bacon being ready to eat at five-thirty in

the morning.

"Okay," I said, and went to the kitchen. I got a plate of food, and a glass of milk and went back

to the living room, sitting down across from them.

"It's a long time from now until you get home," Hannah told me. "You should take some snacks with you.

You don't want your blood sugar level to go wacky."

"Okay, I will," I said.

"I've been thinking, sweetie," Hannah began, and I looked up at her expectantly. "You're going

to be awfully busy. I'm just concerned that you aren't going to have any time for anything else."

"Like what?" I asked, taking a bite of eggs.

"Well, like fun. Extra curricular things at school, basketball games, dances, all of that."

"I can still go to dances if I want," I said. "Or a game, if I really wanted to go."

Hannah looked doubtful, and Adam, though silent, looked serious, and I could tell that Hannah had already

talked to him about this.

"It's okay, Hannah," I said, smiling to dispel her concerns. "Don't worry about me."

"Well, I do worry though-"

"You know Hannah worries about all of you," Adam reminded me.

I took a drink of milk, and said, "It'll be okay, Hannah. To me, this is fun."

"I know that," she nodded. "I just don't want you to miss out on anything. Just keep it in mind,

alright?"

"I will," I told her.

Evan and Brian came in from outside then and things got noisier as everybody got up and started

eating breakfast. I was headed to the kitchen to put my plate in the sink when Adam caught and stopped me.

"I want to explain somethin' to you," he said. "About Hannah."

I looked at him curiously. "What?"

"When she was growing up they had to move around a lot. And she had to work to help support the family.

She never really got the chance to do all the things that young girls generally do. Getting together with

friends, parties, all of that stuff, she missed out on."

I nodded. Hannah had told me enough about her growing up years that I knew what Adam was talking

about.

"She just wants better for you than what she had," Adam continued.

"I know she does," I said, quietly. "I get it," I smiled at him.

7

Brian drove me into town to Doc G's office. We got there a few minutes before seven, and when

we went inside, Doc G turned from where he was starting the coffee pot.

"Mornin'," he said.

Brian and I both returned the greeting, and Doc offered a handshake to Brian.

They stood talking for a few minutes, until finally Doc G turned his attention to me.

"Well, Harlie Mac, what do you think? You ready to get this day started?"

"Yes, sir, I sure am," I told him.

"I can bring her home after noon sometime," Doc G told Brian.

Brian nodded, and tugged on one of my braids. "Do good," he told me. "Learn a lot."

I nodded at him, and when he was gone, Doc G gave me a crooked grin.

"Well," he said. "Let's get to it."

And, boy howdy, did we get to it! The morning was so crazy busy that I didn't feel like I ever

stopped moving.

I tidied up the front office, stacking the papers and magazines I didn't know what to do with in a pile.

I took Doc his cup of coffee to the hitching post out back, where he was doctoring one of John Eastman's

mules. He took the coffee, looking grateful. "Thank you, lass." He drank the coffee down, nearly in one

gulp. "You know how I like my coffee?" he asked me.

I shook my head at him.

"I like it perked in a pot on the stove. The old-fashioned way."

"Yes, it's good that way," I agreed. "We make it that way when we're camping, or on roundup."

"Well, you can't beat the taste."

I relayed the calls that had come in so far that morning.

"Which ones seem most urgent?" he asked me.

I thought hard about that. I didn't feel like I should make that judgement.

"I don't know. I guess it'd be between Jim Davenport's sheep, and Preston Mangold's foal that

won't nurse."

"Sounds like," he said.

I was mucking out the barn stalls when Doc led the mule back in.

"I wondered where you'd gone to," he told me. "Mucking the stalls wasn't on your list

of things to do today."

"It needed done," I said, without thinking, and then realized I'd sounded a bit rude.

"Did you have something else you'd rather I do right now?" I asked him, standing my pitchfork

on the ground, and leaning on it.

"No, lass, I meant no criticism. I expect it's past time that the job was being done. I'm hard pressed

to keep up round here at times."

"That's why you hired me, right?" I said, giving him a smile.

"Well, that's exactly right," Doc G said, returning my smile.

When we both went back into the office, Doc G had more coffee, and I ate one of my apples, and a

granola bar.

Doc returned the phone calls, and I swept up the outer offices. I rode with Doc out to check on the

sick sheep, and after he'd given it a shot, we went back to the office.

Mrs. Page, a retired teacher from the elementary school, was waiting out front of the office when we got back,

a carrier beside her feet, with an angry looking yellow cat glaring out at us.

"Manford's been up to his old tricks today," she told Doc G. I discovered when we went inside just

what old tricks she meant. Manford had obviously been in a fight with another cat. He was bloodied and

hairless in a couple of places. He was also extremely irritable, which I found out personally while

I was helping Mrs. Page hold him, and he succeeded in giving me a couple of intense scratches.

I stayed beside Doc while he took care of the cat, and then once he was placed back into his carrier,

and on his way, I wasn't sorry to see Manford go.

Doc started cleaning up, and gave me a once over.

"He got you pretty good, it looks like."

"It's alright. I've had worse," I said.

"Well, you go get those scratches washed, and you'll find some antiseptic on the shelves up front. Put

a dose of that on."

I went to do that, and when I came back, Doc was waiting at the front door for me.

"Time for lunch," he said. "Let's go over to the café and get a bite to eat."

"Okay," I said, and then hesitated. "Or do you want me to stay here, and answer the phone?"

"No, I don't want you to stay here. I asked you to lunch, now let's go. I'm hungry."

We made a quick walk over to the café, and took the last empty booth. Marie waved at me from

across the room and I waved back, but the other waitress, Carla, took our orders.

I ordered a hamburger, and Doc raised his eyebrows at me.

"That's no lunch for a workin' girl," he objected. "You like roast beef and potatoes?"

"I like them," I said, "but-"

"We'll have two roast beef specials," he told Carla.

"Lima beans or scalloped corn?" Carla asked him.

Doc looked at me expectantly, waiting for my answer.

"Scalloped corn," I said.

"Make that two," Doc told Carla. "And a coffee for me."

When we were left alone again, he asked, "Well, what do you think of the veterinary business so

far?"

"I like it," I said, and meant it. "It's interesting, and fun, too."

"I think it is, too," he agreed. "But I reckon there's plenty of girls your age that wouldn't

think so."

"Not me. Animals are a lot easier to understand than people sometimes."

"I agree with that, as well," he said. "Sounds as though we're kindred spirits, lass."

I smiled. I liked the idea of that. "Yes, sir."

Doc pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. "Before I forget, I want to give you your wages for

today." He laid two tens and a five on the table and pushed it over to me.

Twenty-five dollars!

"I wanted to talk to you about the money," I said, not touching the bills. "I was wondering if

you'd mind not paying me."

"Well, now, that's got to be a first," Doc said.

"I mean, could you take what I earn, and apply it to our vet bill?"

He was looking at me intently, and I went on, "I just thought with the way money is right

now at home, well, this would be my way of helping out."

"Well, that's admirable, sure enough, but I don't know if I'd feel right about it. Why don't you

take your wages home, and talk it over with Adam and Brian? You can always pay on it next week

if it's alright with them."

"Oh, I want it to be a surprise," I told him. "I don't want them to know about it until it's all

paid, and then I'll tell them."

"I see."

"I took a look in Crane's ledger that he writes the bills in. Right now we owe you a little over two hundred. They'll

probably pay some on it soon, too."

Doc didn't say anything at first, and he still hadn't when Carla brought our plates of food to us.

"Dig in," he told me.

"Is it alright, then?" I asked him. "About the money?"

"I'm thinkin' on it," he said. "Eat your lunch."

We ate, talking casually. I found Doc easy to talk to.

When it was time to pay for our lunches, I pulled out the five that Brian had given me that morning,

but Doc G waved a hand at me. "Put that away," he told me. "Lunch is always on me."

When we were nearly to the driveway of home, Doc said quietly, "You're sure that's what you want

to do with your wages?"

"Yes, sir, I'm sure."

"Well, alright, on one condition. We'll put twenty on it every week, but you'll take five for

yourself. I don't feel right taking all your pay. What you do with the five dollars is your business."

"Okay," I said, and he handed me five dollars from his shirt pocket.

Adam came down the front steps to greet us when Doc pulled in. I got out and came around

and Adam put an arm around my shoulders.

"How was your day?" he asked me.

"Fantastic!" I told him.

"Come on in, Doc, and have some pie and coffee," Adam invited.

"Some other time I'll be glad to. I've got a foal to see to right now."

"Well, how she'd do today?" Adam asked him, nodding towards me.

"She's the best help I've ever had," Doc G said.

"Well, that's good," Adam said, squeezing my shoulder.

After Doc was heading down the driveway, Adam gave me another squeeze, as we turned

to go inside the house. He was holding the door open for me to pass in front of him, and as I did,

he pointed towards my arm. "What happened there? Looks like cat scratches."

I looked up at him with a grin. "Some people might call Manford a cat. I prefer to use the word

cougar."

7


	3. Team muckers

In the early morning of the third Saturday working for Doc G, which happened to be the Saturday before Thanksgiving,

I rummaged around in the basement until I found what I was looking for. An old Coleman portable propane

stove, and a camp coffee pot. I lugged them upstairs, going into the kitchen, where everybody looked at me curiously.

"What are you doin' with all that stuff?" Brian asked me.

"Taking it to the office today. Doc G likes his coffee perked on the stove. I thought I'd surprise him."

I set the stuff down on one end of the table, and went to start packing my snacks for the morning.

Hannah gave the portable stove a closer look. "That's nice, sweetie, but does this thing even work anymore?"

Adam joined her in examining it. "I don't even remember the last time we used it. Do you, Brian?"

"Nope. Just be careful when you turn it on," Brian told me. "It might blow the whole office up."

"That's not funny, Brian," Hannah said, with a frown. The nearer her due date, the more Hannah worries.

About everything. Absolutely everything.

"Brian's just teasing," Adam soothed her, giving Brian a gimlet-eyed look.

"I'll be careful," I said.

I asked Guthrie if I could borrow his truck to drive myself to work that morning, but he said he was

giving it an oil change. Next I asked Evan. He said no, that he had to go to Angels Camp to work that

morning. I would have asked to drive the truck or the Jeep, but I knew Adam and Brian wouldn't let me, that they'd

say they couldn't spare them. Or they'd tell me the tires on the Jeep were too worn and bald for me to be driving alone.

I managed to get Hannah alone in the kitchen.

"Could I take your car this morning?" I asked her.

"Clare and I are going grocery shopping this morning," she said.

I groaned. With all the vehicles parked in our yard, you'd think there would be at least one

that I could use for a measly five hours.

Clare came in the kitchen then, followed by Evan and Adam.

"I heard my name," Clare said.

"I was just telling Harlie that you and I are using my car to go shopping this morning," Hannah said.

"Oh," Clare said, leaning against the cabinet.

"I'm your driver today," Evan said to me. "I'll drop you off, and then swing by on my way back to get you."

"You could use mine," Clare told me, "but it's been making kind of a funny noise."

"Better have Brian look at it," Adam told her.

"But you'd let me borrow it?" I asked Clare.

"Sure, if it was running right," Clare affirmed.

"Maybe it would be okay if I drove it, just for this morning," I said, and realized my mistake when Adam

glared at me.

"Did you hear Clare? She said there's a problem with her car. Evan will drive you this mornin'.

Knock it off."

I met his glance and then looked away, embarrassed that he was scolding me in front of everybody.

"Okay," I mumbled, thinking that a simple 'Harlie' would have been enough from him, and biting my lip

to keep from saying something sassy like this is why I needed a car, or something like that.

Evan drove me to town, and helped me carry in the stuff I was taking. The door was unlocked,

but there was no sign of Doc anywhere.

"He's probably out back," I said, setting down the coffee pot, and taking the stove from

Evan. "Thanks, Ev."

"Okay. See ya later."

I started the coffee perking, and went towards the back, hollering to Doc G to let him know I'd arrived.

"Just handle the phone," he called back. "It's been ringin' off the hook."

I tidied the office again, in between answering calls, and taking messages. I'd learned enough about Doc G

that I knew what to stack in a pile, to keep, and what to throw away.

After the coffee was done, I poured a cup and took it out to him.

He took a long swallow, and then said, "Now that's good coffee, right there. Tastes like campfire coffee."

I smiled, and he said, "You look like the cat that swallowed the canary. What are you

up to?"

"I brought in a portable stove and a camp coffee pot," I told him.

"You never fail to amaze me, lass," he said, and I felt the praise to my toes. It made me feel

glad inside, as if I could do anything.

He handed the empty coffee cup back to me, and said, as usual, "Well, Harlie Mac, what do you think? Ready to get this day started?"

"Yes, sir."

The morning passed as quickly as usual, and when

we were getting ready to head out to lunch at Marie's, Doc G gave me the usual five dollars, and showed me

in his ledger that sixty dollars was now paid on the family's vet bill.

"That's awesome," I said, and waved a hand at the receipt he offered.

"I don't need that," I told him.

"Take it," he ordered, and so I stuffed it into the pocket of my jeans.

After lunch he dropped me back at the office. "I need to head out to Dale's again. You've got a ride

home?"

"Yes, Evan's coming. He should be here soon."

"Alright. Lock up when you go, and put they key under the dog." The dog, being a ceramic statue of a

basset hound that stood out front of the office.

After Doc left, I went out back to the barn, and started cleaning the stalls, They needed it. It seemed

that there was a steady stream of animals in and out.

I heard Evan yelling my name, and went to the barn door, calling back to him.

"I'm out here!"

When he came out, and saw what I was doing, he shook his head and grinned.

"You just can't get away from mucking stalls, can you? At home and here, too."

"Yeah. But I don't mind it so much here."

"Well, you ready to go?" he asked.

"I want to finish this real quick, okay? Doc just can't get to everything around here."

Evan shrugged. "Okay."

After a couple of minutes, he grabbed another pitchfork, and started helping me. I knew he was

probably tired from his morning of hard physical labor with the horses, and so I really appreciated it.

"Thanks," I told him. "You're pretty nice."

"Yeah," he said, forking soiled hay into the wheelbarrow. "I'm a real doll."

I giggled at that. "I wouldn't go that far," I laughed.

We were finishing up, when we heard a big dually truck pull in thru the back alley, and then

doors slamming, and voices.

Evan went to the barn door to look outside.

"Looks like the Clark's," he said.

"Reagan?" I asked.

Then the sound of yelling got louder, and I joined Evan at the door.

It was Reagan, and her father. I hadn't seen Mr. Clark in a long time, and I was surprised by how

different he looked. He'd gained a lot of weight, and he was walking with a pronounced limp. He wasn't the

one doing the yelling. It was all Reagan. She was yelling at her father, and at the horse that she was unloading

from the trailer behind the truck. I recognized it as the same horse that had been here at Doc G's a couple of

weeks before, when I'd first started working.

"That's the horse she had here a couple weeks ago," I told Evan. "He had a swollen tendon, and Doc G

told her-"

I stopped talking because Reagan had spotted us standing there.

She threw the reins towards her father without a word and came over to where we

were standing, her father following behind, leading the horse slowly. I saw that the horse was

limping, and his entire knee was swollen.

"Where's Doc G?" she demanded of me, without even a hello.

"He's gone out on a call," I told her.

"Well, I need him to look at Malakie. He's done something to his joint again."

Mr. Clark came up, nodding at both Evan and I.

"Howdy, Evan," he said. "Young lady," he said to me, and I figured he didn't remember my name.

Evan nodded back. "Mr. Clark."

"How's the family?" he asked Evan and I, but we neither one had a chance to answer, because Reagan

started talking again. Or more yelling than talking, waving her hands around.

"I thought he was better," she complained, pointing at the horse. "Doc said he was better!"

Instantly my hackles went up. "He was better," I said in defense of Doc G.

"Well, look at him now! I rode him in a couple parades, and his leg is all swollen again."

I leaned my pitchfork against the barn, and went over to the horse.

"Did you do the hot packs?" I asked her.

I didn't think my tone was rude, but apparently Reagan thought that it was, because her

perfectly plucked eyebrows rose a notch, and her eyes flashed.

"I don't think that you're telling me what to do, now are you, Harlie?"

I was so angry inside, at her attitude, and at her treatment of the horse, that I almost lost my

temper, but I tried to keep control.

"No," I said evenly. "I'm not. I just know that's what Doc G told you."

"I told the ranch hands to do it," she said loftily. "They were probably lazy, like they always are."

"The hands aren't lazy, Reagan," Mr. Clark objected.

"Of course they are! Because they know you won't say a word to them about it," Reagan said.

I was shocked at her rudeness to her father. I could feel Evan stepping up beside me, and he

bent down to look over the horse's leg.

"He's going to need to rest that leg awhile," Evan said.

"I don't have time for this!" Reagan said in obvious frustration, and actually stamped her foot, that

was encased in a pair of fancy cowboy boots.

"Well, either he rests now, or he's gonna be laid up for a lot longer," Evan said mildly.

Reagan sighed heavily, evidently believing Evan.

"Well, alright," she said. "Harlie, tell Doc G to do whatever needs to be done with him, and to call me

when he's better."

"It's things that could probably be done at home," Evan said. "Rest and hot packs. He doesn't really

have to be here to be tended to."

"Well, thank you, Evan, for your opinion," Reagan said, so sugary sweetly that it was obvious it

was sarcasm. That made me mad, too. Her talking to Evan that way. I started to tell her off, when Evan

gave me a poke in the ribs.

"It was just a suggestion, Reagan," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "You can take it or leave it."

"Then I'll leave it," she said, and stomped off in a huff to the truck, getting into the driver's seat and

slamming her door.

Mr. Clark sighed, and then shook his head a little. He looked embarrassed.

"She's a little high strung," he said.

I wanted to say, 'you think so?', but I knew that would be rude and disrespectful. Besides, I felt

sorry for Mr. Clark. Living with Reagan must not be much fun.

"You can tell Doc to send me the bill," Mr. Clark said.

"Yes, sir," I said.

Mr. Clark nodded, and handed the reins off to me. The truck horn blared.

"Thanks. It was good to see you both. Tell the rest of the family hello," he said.

"We will," Evan said, and we waited until Mr. Clark had walked slowly to the truck, with a definite limp.

When he was inside the truck cab, Reagan roared out of the alley, faster than necessary.

I looked at Evan and he looked at me.

"Whoo," he whistled. "She's somethin'."

"Yeah." I led the horse carefully into one of the just-cleaned stalls, and took off his reins, hanging them

on a hook.

"Where's the feed?" Evan asked, and I pointed towards the back wall.

"Over there."

"I'll get him some water, You want to get him some oats?" he asked me.

I said okay, and got a can of oats, putting them in the feeder. Evan poured the water into the

tank, and we stood there for a minute, side by side.

"You know when Doc G's gonna be back?" he asked me

I shook my head. "No."

"Well, we could put a hot pack on him, if you want to stick around,"

"You don't mind? You're not tired?" I asked him.

"I'm tired, but I don't mind. You'd better call home so they're not worryin' about us."

I showed Evan where everything was, while I went to make the phone call.

Hannah answered, and I explained what was going on. When I came back out, Evan was on his

knees, wrapping a hot pack around the horse's leg.

I sank down beside him in the hay. "Want me to do it?" I asked.

"No, I've got it," Evan said.

"He's beautiful, don't you think?" I said.

"Yeah, he is. Too good of a horse for that brat."

"She is a brat, isn't she?" I said.

"She sure is," Evan said, sounding disgusted.

"I couldn't believe she talked to her father like that. And he didn't even say anything, he just

let her do it."

"He's probably been not sayin' anything for a long time. That's why she does it."

"Yeah." I thought back to that morning, and how close I'd come to mouthing off to Adam, but what

had stopped me was that I knew he wouldn't put up with it.

"Do you think I could be hateful like that, Evan?"

Evan looked at me incredulously. "Like she is? Of course not."

"You used to say that I was a brat," I reminded him.

"You can be prickly, and sometimes ornery, but you're not like Reagan. She's mean spirited," Evan said decisively.

"She's pretty, though."

"Pretty is as pretty does," Evan quoted, and I shook my head at the old saying.

"I think I could be real mean too, though," I said. "If I got the chance."

"Naw," he said, in disagreement.

"You mean because of my basic sweet nature?" I teased him.

"Well, that. And also because I'd never let you be like that." Evan spoke matter-of-factly, not

looking up from the horse's leg.

I looked at him thoughtfully. "Oh, you wouldn't, huh?" I asked.

"That's right."

"I feel kind of sorry for Mr. Clark. It must not be much fun having to listen to her all the

time."

"I wouldn't think it would be," Evan agreed.

"Would you like her for a sister?" I said, poking his arm.

"Noooo," he said, with an exaggerated grimace, and I laughed.

"I couldn't believe it when she honked at her dad like she did." I said, shaking my head.

"She needs her behind paddled. That would straighten her out some," Evan said, and then asked

if I knew where Doc G kept some tape that he could wrap around the swollen knee.

"It'll give him some added support," Evan told me.

I went to get some tape, and we finished up, and then went thru the front office, where I turned off all

the lights, and locked the door, putting the key under the basset hound statue.

We were both tired, I guess, because we were quiet on the way home, listening to the radio.

When we pulled up in front of the barn and parked, I got out and we headed inside together.

"I'm glad I got you for a brother," I told him. I was serious, but I wondered if he'd tease me about being too mushy.

"I'm glad I got you for a sister," Evan returned, and I smiled at him. Wonder of wonders!

He wasn't teasing me. He was being serious, too.

Evan held the door open for me to pass in front of him, and then said,

"Because if I'd gotten Reagan for a sister, I'd be in prison for murder."

7


	4. McFadden Mafia

I had a lot of homework to do that night. Guthrie planned to go out with Kristin. Tony had asked me to go

to the movies, but I'd told him I had my tutoring session, which was true enough. But, though I wouldn't

admit it to the family, I was bone weary. I planned to get thru my session with Mrs. Stevens, and then soak in

Hannah's bathtub.

Crane had done a good job in his search of a math tutor for me. Mrs. Stevens was in her mid-sixties, and

the mother of John Stevens, one of our neighboring ranchers. She'd moved to Murphys to live with the Stevens after

her big house in Seattle got to be too much for her. She was patient and kind, and was actually helping me

keep my grade in algebra up. Right now it was at a C+ and holding steady. After only three weeks of twice

a week tutoring, I thought that was pretty good.

After I was done, and Mrs. Stevens had gone, I went to find Hannah. She was busy in the kitchen,

cutting up potatoes to fry.

"Is it okay if I soak in your bathtub?" I asked her.

"Sure."

I felt sorry for Hannah, sitting there, peeling potatoes. She looked so tired and miserable. I

wondered how it could be possible for her to get any bigger in this pregnancy.

"I can help you get supper started first," I said, feeling my conscience prick me.

"Clare will be down in a few minutes to help me. You go on," Hannah told me.

I soaked for a long time in the tub, using some of Hannah's bubble bath. It smelled like lilacs, and

while I soaked, I scrubbed my fingernails. They were chipped and ragged.

I was nearly asleep in the water when there was knocking on the door.

"Supper!" It sounded like Guthrie thru the door.

I sat up, and sighed, getting out and drying off. I pulled on my clean tank top and shorts, and

went downstairs in my bare feet, gathering my wet hair up into a high ponytail as I walked. The result

of that being curls springing out of the hair tie around my face. Everybody was gathered in the

kitchen, talking, and getting food on the table.

"How did tutoring go?" Crane asked me, as I slid into my seat at the table, and he reached around me

to set a plate of bread down.

"It was good," I said. I was so tired that I didn't talk much, feeling like I could eat and go

to bed.

Supper was bacon and tomato sandwiches, and fried potatoes, with cooked carrots.

"Did you call to leave Doc G a message about the horse bein' there?" Evan asked me, from across

the table.

"Oh, I forgot," I said. "I'd better go do it now."

"Do what?" Hannah asked. "Can't it wait until you eat?"

"It'll just take a minute," I said, and pushed my chair back.

I went to the living room, and dialed the office, but the answering machine picked up. It was

five o'clock. Maybe he was at home by now. I called Doc G's home phone, but when that too was answered

with 'You've reached Doc G. Tell me what you need, and I'll call you back', I just left a quick

message about Reagan's horse, and was headed back to the kitchen when the phone rang.

That was quick, I thought. Doc G must have been sitting near the phone after all.

"Hello, Doc," I answered.

Just the merest silence, and then, "This isn't Doc, but hello anyway," and a low chuckle.

"Oh," I said, embarrassed, and before I could ask who it was, I heard,

"Is this Harlie?"

"Yes."

"Hey, Harlie. This is Eddie."

For a moment I was stunned into silence. Eddie? Oh, Eddie!

"Oh, hi Eddie," I said. "Sorry about that."

"No problem," he said, and laughed.

"Did you want to talk to Evan?" I asked. "He's eating, but I'll go get him."

"No, I called to talk to you."

"Me?" I said, my voice high in surprise.

"Yeah, you," he said. "I was wondering if you might want to go out for awhile tonight. Play a game of

pool or go for a drive."

I couldn't answer. I couldn't wrap my mind around the fact that Eddie Marmon was asking me to

go out with him.

"Harlie?"

"Umm, I don't know," I said, trying to collect my scattered thoughts.

"Yeah, I know it's late notice and all. You probably got a date already, don't you?"

"No," I said quickly, and then heard him laugh again.

I tried to gather my wits. He probably thought I was loony. "I mean, I worked today," I said,

"and I don't know about going out tonight-"

"Sure," Eddie said, not sounding at all upset. "No problem. I'll call you again sometime, if that's alright."

"Umm, sure," I said.

"Alright. See you, Harlie."

"Bye," I managed to say, and hung the phone up gently. I pressed my hands to my face, still having trouble

believing it. I liked Eddie. He was cute, and he seemed nice and funny. I thought I'd like to go out with him.

I went back to the kitchen, not intending to reveal anything yet. I still wanted to think about it, just to myself.

I, of course, wasn't thinking about the questions that were going to start.

"Did you get Doc called?" Adam asked me, as I sat back down at the table.

"Uh huh. I left him a message."

"Who called?" Brian asked then, leaning across Clare to look at me.

I was caught. I really didn't want to say anything, but I didn't know how to get out of it.

"It was for me," I said vaguely, hoping that would satisfy him. And everybody else.

Nope. Wrong thing to say. I had most everybody's attention now.

"Well, who?" Brian persisted, his eyes lit up with teasing.

"Yeah, who?" Evan asked, getting in on it.

"Just a friend," I said evasively.

"Oh, a friend," Adam said, from his end of the table, emphasizing the word friend.

"You all leave Harlie alone," Clare spoke up, and I shot her a grateful glance.

Suddenly, Brian lost his smile. "It wasn't that Seth punk, was it?" he demanded.

"No!" I said quickly.

"Well, that's good," Brian said, taking a drink of his iced tea.

"He's not around here right now, anyway," Guthrie volunteered, smearing mayonnaise

on a piece of bread for another sandwich.

"How do you know that?" Adam asked him.

"I keep tabs on him," Guthrie said, adding bacon and more tomatoes to his sandwich. "I know some

people in the town he's staying at. They tell me when he leaves."

I gave Guthrie a shocked sideways look. I hadn't known that he was monitoring Seth's whereabouts.

"That's good," Brian said, clearly approving of the idea.

"What is this, the Mafia?" I demanded of Guthrie. "What are you doing that for?"

"That's a dumb question," Guthrie said, biting into his sandwich. "You know why. I wanna

know where that loser is at all times."

"Who are these informers that you know?" I continued, curious.

"Just some people," Guthrie said casually.

"I don't think you need to be doing that," I objected.

"I don't see any harm in it," Adam spoke from his end of the table.

"I don't either," Brian added.

I looked around the table, and saw nobody who was in obvious agreement with me, except for Clare,

and maybe Crane. His expression was hard to decipher.

"Seth's not a good guy, but he's not exactly Jack the Ripper or anybody," I said.

"Well, maybe you just hadn't ought to worry about it, then," Brian said, glaring at me.

I looked away from him and Evan caught my eye across the table, shaking his head at me, which

I knew was his clue to me to shut up.

I finished my supper in silence, glad that at least the conversation had diminished the curiousity

about who the phone call had been from.

The talk at the table turned to the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday, and who would be included

in our dinner that day. The best thing about the holiday that I could think of was that Ford would be home for a whole

week, and also that maybe I'd finally have the chance to go horseback riding. I was so busy with homework

and tutoring and working for Doc G that my spare time to ride was almost nonexistent.

Guthrie reminded everybody with a grin that his birthday needed to be discussed as well.

"Oh, that's right, you have a birthday comin' up soon, don't you?" Adam teased him.

"Seems like just yesterday that you were walkin' around here in a diaper, and suckin' on a pacifier," Brian added.

"Oh, ho!" Guthrie snorted.

Guthrie and I were born so close together that for one month out of the year we're technically the same age, which is

actually kind of funny.

Adam was saying that he didn't think we needed a lot of extra company for Thanksgiving dinner.

"Just us will be enough," he told Hannah. "Otherwise you're goin' to wear yourself out, and I don't want you

doin' that."

"Just us, then," Hannah said. "And Marie." She turned to me. "Do you know if Doc G has anything planned? He's

welcome to come here."

"I don't know," I told her. "Do you want me to invite him?"

Hannah told me that I could, and after supper, I checked the dishwashing chart, and groaned. I was on.

Brian and I were in the middle of the dishes when Guthrie came back thru the kitchen, his hair wet from the shower,

and buttoning up one of his good shirts.

"You sure you don't want to go to the movies with Kristin and me?" he asked me.

"I'm sure. Thanks, Guth."

"Alright. See ya'll later."

Brian and I both told him goodbye, and finished the dishes, the silence broken when Brian spoke up.

"You tired?" he asked me.

I'd made a pact with myself when I started working my Saturday job that I wouldn't ever complain about, or admit

to being tired. If I did, then the family could say I was doing too much, or ruining my health, and all of that.

This was Brian, though, not Adam or Crane. Not that Brian doesn't worry, because he does. He's just not as likely to think

me being tired is a sign of anything horrible.

"A little," I admitted.

"Better make it an early night then," he said.

"I've got a lot of homework to do. I can't leave it all until tomorrow."

"Mmmm."

I went upstairs after we were finished, and settled myself in the middle of my bed, and started doing homework. I was so involved that

I jumped a little when Brian spoke up from the doorway of my room.

"How's it goin'?" he asked.

"You startled me," I told him. "I didn't hear you walk up."

Brian came on into my room, and stood beside the bed, his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.

"Sorry."

"It's okay. I guess I was just concentrating," I told him.

"Did you get a lot done?"

"Some. I still have a lot left."

"Well, call it good for tonight, and get some sleep. Tomorrow's another day."

I looked over at my small alarm clock. Nine-fifteen.

"I'll bet there aren't very many sixteen year old girls who go to bed at 9:15 on a Saturday night," I said in

resignation.

"So what?" Brian countered. "That doesn't matter. Do what's right for you and nobody else."

I sighed. "Maybe I'll just work a little longer," I told him.

"Tomorrow," Brian said firmly, and started stacking up my papers and books into a pile beside my bed.

"Okay," I said, and although I wouldn't have admitted it to him, I didn't mind so much that he was being all bossy

and take-charge. It was kind of nice, actually. I was really tired.

I crawled under my quilt, and Brian patted my knee, and went to the door, turning off the light.

He told me goodnight, and left, and I think I went to sleep right away.

7

We all went to church the next morning, and I was surprised when, while I was standing with Guthrie and Evan and Clare

and Brian outside, Eddie Marmon came up to stand with us.

Everybody said hello to him, and he smiled at me.

"Morning, Harlie."

"Hi," I said, smiling back at him.

He mostly talked to my brothers, except when we all got ready to leave, and he caught my arm.

"I'll be callin' you," he said.

I nodded, and turned to find my brothers staring at me. Even Clare looked a little surprised.

"What was that all about?" Evan demanded.

"Huh?" I said, trying to think fast. I wasn't sure just what Evan's objection would be, since I knew he liked Eddie alright.

"Why is he gonna call you?"

"I guess because he wants to talk to me," I said, trying for a joking tone.

Evan frowned, obviously not impressed. "I mean it, Har. What's up?"

I shrugged, trying to act casual. "Nothing's up. He wants to take me for a drive or something-"

"When did this happen?" Evan asked.

I looked toward Guthrie, and I was a little startled by the look on his face. He didn't look mad exactly, but he definitely

didn't look happy, either. A look at Brian showed him to be looking really serious, as well.

"He called me last night," I told Evan. "It's no big deal." I still wondered what Evan's objection was.

"It is a big deal," he argued.

"Well, why?" I asked, feeling snappish. "I thought you liked Eddie."

"I do like him. He's a good guy. But he's too old for you," Evan stated.

"He's Ford's age," I protested.

"Exactly."

"Oh, for Pete's sake," I said, and stomped off toward where our vehicles were parked. Instead of riding with Evan and Guthrie, I climbed into

the back of Hannah's little Gremlin. When she and Adam got in, they looked at me in surprise, sitting in the back seat.

"Well, hello," Hannah said, smiling at me.

"Is it okay if I ride home with you two?" I asked.

"Sure," Hannah said, but Adam twisted to look at me.

"Well, now, not so fast, Hannah," Adam said, "Maybe I want to be alone with you."

I figured that he was only teasing me, but I slumped down in the seat.

"Go on and kiss or whatever," I told him. "I won't pay attention, I promise."

"Well, that's just real generous of you," Adam grumbled.

"Oh, shush," Hannah told him. "What's wrong?" she asked me.

"It's Evan, he's being ridiculous," I complained.

"What about?" Hannah asked.

I started to tell Hannah about Eddie, and what Evan had said, but Adam was looking at me in the rearview mirror, his

expression curious, so I mumbled, "I'll tell you later," to Hannah.

"What's Evan done now?" Adam persisted.

I gave Hannah a pleading look, and she nodded, and rubbed Adam's shoulder in a placating way.

"We better get home," she told him. "I'll bet the roast is done."

7


	5. Tagalong Ford

I was helping Hannah and Clare get lunch on the table when Evan walked past me, a glass of tea in his

hand. "I want to talk to you later," he said, in a low tone.

"I think I'm busy later," I said, and he gave me such a fierce look that I relented.

"For gosh sakes, Ev, I'm just joking with you."

"Well," he said, looking a little less severe, "alright, then."

I had no intention of talking to Evan about Eddie without some kind of female support, either Hannah or Clare. I wasn't sure

what Hannah would say for sure, though.

As I slid into my seat at the table, I took a drink of milk, and felt Guthrie's eyes on me.

I turned to see him giving me a decidedly displeased look.

"What?" I said, setting my glass down.

"What about Tony?"

"Huh?" I asked, genuinely confused. "What do you mean?"

"Tony thinks you're his girlfriend, and now you're gonna go out with Eddie Marmon?"

"What are you talking about?" I hissed. "I never told Tony-"

"You shouldn't mess with a guy's feelings like that, Har," Guthrie said, and turned his attention to his roast and potatoes and gravy. "It's

not cool."

"I'm not!" I said, louder than I intended to, which earned me looks from half of the family at the table.

"What are you two arguing about?" Crane asked.

"We're not arguing," Guthrie said, and I felt relieved, only to have that relief dashed, when he

said, really low, "Later."

Joy and jubilation. Now I had two talks to dread.

I ate and then cornered Hannah and Clare while they were cleaning off the table and starting the dishes.

I told them about Eddie calling and then about what had happened after church.

"What do you think?" I asked them.

Hannah and Clare exchanged a look.

"Well," Hannah said, "I don't know Eddie that well, but he seems nice-"

"He is," I interrupted. "He's nice, and he's funny."

"And cute," Clare added, and I grinned at her.

"Well, yeah, that too," I said.

"You have to understand what Evan's thinking, though," Hannah said carefully. "He's just concerned."

"I know," I sighed. "It's just sometimes-well, I wish they wouldn't be so darn concerned."

"I don't think there's anything you can do about that," Hannah said.

"This is just my opinion," Clare said slowly, "and don't get mad at me, alright? But if Eddie is Ford's age,

that makes him, 19 or 20, right?"

I nodded. "Nineteen, I think."

Clare looked at Hannah again, and then back at me. "Well, at your age, that's a big difference."

I started to object, when Clare went on. "There's that much age difference between Brian and I, and you and Adam, too, right?"

she asked, looking at Hannah for confirmation.

When Hannah nodded, Clare went on. "It doesn't sound fair, but at our age it's alright, but at yours, it can be too much."

"I agree," Hannah said.

I sighed. "So you two don't think I should go out with Eddie, either?"

Clare looked to Hannah, and Hannah said, quietly, "It's not that I think it's an impossible thing, I just think you should

be willing to listen to what the fellows have to say about it. They're looking at it from a male point of view."

"Okay," I said, and poured myself a glass of grape juice.

"See you later," I told them, and started up to my room.

"I have an idea," Clare suggested, and I stopped to turn back. "Maybe Eddie could come here and hang out with you. Go

for a walk, or eat dinner here. Something like that. That might make the guys feel better about it."

I shrugged, tired of talking about it. "Maybe," I said, and went upstairs. I had barely started on my homework,

when Guthrie came to my doorway.

He wasted no time in coming to the point. "How long have you been thinkin' about goin' out with Eddie?"

"Since yesterday," I said honestly.

"Well, what about Tony?"

"You keep saying that. I like Tony, Guth, but I never said I was his girlfriend or anything-"

"Well, Tony's a nice guy."

"I know he is. I never said he wasn't," I said.

"Well, then?"

"What's wrong with going out with somebody else?" I asked.

Guthrie cracked his knuckles, a habit he has when he's nervous, or thinking hard about something.

"Nothin', I guess," he admitted. "You don't want to go out with Tony anymore, then?"

"I didn't say that. You're not listening!" I was getting irritated.

I took a deep breath. I really didn't want to fight with Guthrie. On the rare occasions we disagree about something, I always

feel worse after the argument. The argument itself bothers me more than whatever it was we were arguing about.

"I'll still go out with Tony sometimes," I said. "It's just that I might like to date somebody else sometime, too."

"Okay," Guthrie said, and I could tell he didn't want to argue, either.

"Come on, and let's go fishin'," he offered, abruptly changing the subject.

"I can't. I've got all this work to do."

"What do you have left to do?" he asked.

"An English report, and a science worksheet."

"English," Guthrie said, with a wave of his hand. "You can finish that in two seconds and do it blindfolded. Come on and go fishin' with me."

And, so, that's what I did.

7777777

There were only two days of school that week because of the Thanksgiving holiday. On Monday morning I was getting ready for

school, brushing my teeth in the bathroom, when Evan came to lean in the open doorway.

"Let's talk a minute," he said.

I'd hoped he was going to drop the whole Eddie thing, but apparently that was not to be the case.

I spit into the sink, and then continued brushing.

"Okay," I said, around my toothbrush, turning to look at him.

"I was surprised yesterday when I heard Eddie say he was going to call you."

"I could tell," I said lightly.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised, but I was."

I brushed and watched him, waiting.

"He's twenty years old, Harlie," he said, and then looked at me, as if that said everything there was to say.

I spit into the sink again, and rinsed my toothbrush, putting it back in the holder.

"So just because somebody is a little older, that means I can't be friends with them?" I said.

"Friends, okay, but dating, well that's another thing. A girl your age isn't on the same page as a twenty year old

guy."

"So you think he'll take advantage of me?" I asked shortly. "You think he'll get me alone and try something? Is that

what you're saying?"

Before Evan could answer that, I spoke up again, "Because that's kind of a generalization. Not every guy is on the

make. Are they?"

"No, not every guy. But you're pretty young to put yourself in situations that might cause you problems like that."

I picked up a bath towel hanging on the towel rack and draped it over my head, letting it flow down my shoulders, and then

looked at Evan, widening my eyes mischeviously.

"What's that about?" he asked, sounding impatient.

"Seeing how I look in a nun's habit," I said. "Maybe I should join a convent. That way you wouldn't have to worry about

any boys asking me out."

Evan shook his head, not impressed with my levity.

"I'm tryin' to have a serious conversation with you, and you're jokin' around," he said.

I pulled the towel off my head, brushing back my curls, and looking at him.

"Whatever," he said irritably. "I've got things to do. But I still say Eddie's too old for you."

And he turned to go down the stairs, muttering to himself.

7

Ford got home the next day. He was parked alongside of Guthrie's truck in the school parking lot, when

school got out for the day. I saw him sitting there on the tailgate of his truck, talking to some of the senior boys.

I wasted no time in getting over to him, sitting next to him. I couldn't greet him the way I normally would have,

not in front of everybody.

I settled for saying an enthusiastic, 'Hi!' to him, and he put his arm around my shoulder, giving me a hug.

I was quiet while he talked to the other kids, and after a few minutes, Guthrie joined the group. After the

other guys left, the three of us sat there for a minute, grinning at each other like idiots.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him, at the same time that Guthrie said,

"Have you been home yet?"

Ford laughed. "No, I haven't been home yet. I just got into town, so I thought I'd stop here first."

I rode home with Ford, and we pulled out onto the highway, followed by Guthrie in his truck.

"How's everything at home?" Ford asked me.

"Alright. Money's not so good right now."

"Yeah. I knew that. How's Hannah?"

"She'll tell you she's fine."

"What do you say, though?"

"She's tired, and everything. I don't see how she can possibly get any bigger. The baby must weigh twelve pounds. Her back hurts

her a lot."

Ford nodded, looking concerned.

"But you know Hannah," I went on, "she doesn't complain."

"No. She wouldn't."

We drove along, and I rolled my window down, letting my arm trail outside in the breeze.

"So tell me about your job," Ford said.

My favorite subject. I filled Ford in on everything I was doing for Doc G, telling him some of the funny experiences I'd had.

Like going with Doc to a older woman's house, where her four pet goats were wearing clothes.

Ford laughed at that story. "You're really lovin' it. I can tell."

"Yeah. It's fun. I'm learning a lot."

After that we talked about Ford's classes, and about how hungry he was.

"I could eat a whole pie by myself right about now," he said.

"Some things never change," I told him. And somehow, even if it was just Ford's huge appetite, it made me

feel comforted that some things remained the same.

7

I badgered Ford into going horseback riding with me and Guthrie that evening after supper. We rode a long time, and by the time

we headed back towards the house, the sun was setting, with colors between a vibrant orange and red.

I called Doc G later that evening, and asked him if he needed any help the next day, since I had the day off from school.

He seemed grateful, and didn't hesitate to say that my help would be welcome, though when he found out Ford was home,

he asked if I was sure I wanted to take the time from Ford's visit.

Since Ford was sitting near enough by to hear me talking, I nudged his foot with mine, and told Doc G,

"Actually, I thought I might bring Ford along with me."

Ford raised both eyebrows at me questioningly, and Doc G said that he would look forward to seeing Ford.

I hung up and went to flop down beside Ford on the couch.

"So what do you have planned for me tomorrow?" he asked me.

"Just helping Doc G," I said.

"We could use Ford's help around here," Brian objected.

"It's just for the morning," I reassured Brian.

"Can you spare me for a couple of hours?" Ford asked, looking at both Brian and Adam.

When they both said it was alright, Ford nudged me. "Alright, I'll tag along with ya."

Afterwards, I was glad to point out to Ford that he owed me, big time, for making him tag along.

We got to Doc G's office early the next morning, well before seven, and Ford parked beside Doc G's black Chevy.

Going inside, Doc already had the coffee perculating in the coffee pot I'd brought in. He turned to say

good morning to us, and I saw him slip a bottle of medicine back into his shirt pocket. It wasn't the first time I'd seen

him take medicine, but he always took it discretely, not making a big deal out of it. I was curious, but I'd never asked

him about it. He gave me his customary greeting.

"Well, Harlie Mac, what do you think? Ready to get this day started?"

"Yes, sir."

Doc G gave Ford a hearty handshake, and they talked for a few minutes, with Doc asking Ford about his

college classes, and what degree he was working for.

When Ford told him he was going for a dual degree in teaching high school science, and a business degree, Doc G

nodded in approval.

We crowded into Doc's truck, Ford and I both holding closed boxes on our laps as we rode. Since Doc had brought the female

dog we'd rescued with him to work that day, she was crowded into the cab with us, too. Her time with Doc G had

transformed her into a good looking dog. While maintaining her friendly demeanor with others, she was quite plainly a

one-man dog. Doc G was obviously her special human, the apple of her eye. He'd named her Pearl.

Our first stop was at Mrs. Mendenhall's small farm. I'd been here with Doc G before, when he dropped off some

feed for the chickens. Besides chickens, and an elderly Cocker Spaniel dog, I didn't know that Mrs. Mendenhall had

any animals that Doc G might be coming to tend to.

"Is Mrs. Mendenhall's dog sick?" I asked.

Doc G said no, and we all got out, with Doc holding one of the boxes, and Ford the other box.

Mrs. Mendenhall came out onto the front porch, using a cane to assist her walking. Her lined face was wreathed in a smile as

she saw us walking up.

"I just had a feeling that you'd be by today, young man," she said to Doc G.

I hid my smile at Doc being called a young man, since he was in his mid to late fifties. But I guessed that in Mrs.

Mendenhall's eyes, he was young, since she had to be in her eighties.

Doc G nodded to Ford and they carried the boxes up onto the porch.

"Brought you a few things," Doc G told her.

When we got inside the house, Mrs. Mendenhall opened the boxes, and I saw that there were groceries inside. Butter, cheese,

a ham, bread, bananas and oranges.

It seemed almost that Mrs. Mendenhall was going to cry.

"I don't know how to thank you," she told Doc G, her voice quavering.

"No need for that," Doc G said quietly. "Make me some of those lemon bars of yours and that'll make us square."

Doc G told Ford that there was a sack of dog food in the back of the pickup, and asked him to bring it inside.

"You even think of old Rex," Mrs. Mendenhall said, her pale blue eyes glistening.

Ford brought the sack inside over his shoulder, and set it down against the kitchen wall.

Next, Doc G asked me if I would mind feeding the chickens and gathering the eggs, so that Mrs. Mendenhall didn't have

to get out to do it.

Ford went with me, and he scattered the grain, while I gathered eggs in the braided wicker basket. Rex followed along, as

if to keep an eye on us.

"He's an old dog," Ford commented.

"I think Doc G said he's at least twelve," I told him.

"Wow. Older than Gussie, even."

We finished up, and then walked back to the house. Thru the screen door, we could see Doc G sitting at the kitchen table,

talking to Mrs. Mendenhall. They seemed involved in conversation, and Ford said quietly, "Let's wait out here."

We sat down on the front porch steps, the egg basket between us, and Ford scratching old Rex's floppy ears.

After a few minutes, Doc G came out, followed by Mrs. Mendenhall, leaning on her cane.

She thanked Ford and I for feeding and gathering the eggs. "This leg of mine slows me down some," she said.

"It's alright," I told her.

"We were glad to do it," Ford added.

We said goodbye, and rode back towards Murphys.

"That's nice of you, to help her out that way," I told Doc G.

"She's a good lady," Doc replied. "She needs a little help now and then."

Doc went on to say that Mrs. Mendenhall had one son, who very rarely called or visited. She counted on the money

that her son was supposed to send her every month.

"More months than not, he doesn't send anything," Doc G said.

"Oh, that's sad," I said. I would have asked more questions, but Doc changed the subject, pointing out the new barn the

Patterson's were building as we drove past.

Ford openly admired the barn. "Someday, maybe," he said. "One of those would sure look good on the McFadden ranch."

"It would hold a lot of animals," I spoke up, and Doc G chuckled.

"Of course that'd be her first thought, huh, Ford?" he asked.

Ford nodded. "She's got a one track mind as far as animals are concerned," he said.

The next stop was at a newcomer to the area, a rancher named Bill Nelson, who needed Doc G to give

innoculations to several of his cattle. Mr. Nelson seemed like a nice man. He also had a beautiful daughter, who was

about Ford's age, and also home from college on Thanksgiving vacation. Her name was Valerie, and both she and Ford regarded

each other with definite interest. I stayed close to Doc G, helping any way I could, and getting exceedingly dirty

and smelly in the process. Ford and Valerie did a fair share, too, though they did a fair share of talking together, as well.

As we were leaving, I saw Valerie take Ford's hand, and write her phone number on it, just like I'd seen girls do on television.

We went back to the office, and then, as usual, we went over to the diner, where Doc G bought

Ford and I lunch. Ford tried to protest, but Doc G told him to sit down and not say

anything more about it.

As Ford and I were getting ready to leave after that, Doc G pressed a five dollar bill into my hand.

"I was just helping out today," I told him. "You don't have to pay me if you don't want to-"

"If I didn't want to, then I wouldn't do it," Doc G said, in his blunt manner.

I invited Doc G to Thanksgiving dinner the next day. He thanked me and said that he appreciated the offer,

but that he had other plans. He didn't say what those plans were, but I wondered if it had something to do

with Mrs. Mendenhall.

"You tell Hannah I sure do appreciate the invite, though," he said. "Maybe I'll swing by in the evening for

some pie."

As Ford and I were driving home, I leaned back against the seat.

"Mr. Nelson seems real nice," I said, feeling ornery, and giving Ford a sideways glance.

"Yeah. He does."

"Valerie seems real nice, too," I continued.

"Yep."

"So," I said slowly, "are you going to wait until after supper tonight, or are you going to call her as soon as we get home?"

7


	6. Shenanigans, anyone?

Well, Ford waited until after supper. Then he went to call Valerie, amid much teasing from Evan and Brian.

"So what's this girl like?" Brian asked me, as we were all sitting around the living room.

"She seems nice," I said. "She goes to college at the University of Nevada."

When Ford came back from his phone call, he said he was going to shower and go pick Valerie up for a date.

Brian and Evan started teasing him again, and even Adam made a comment or two. Guthrie got in on it with

a question about how pretty Valerie was.

"She's pretty," Ford acknowledged.

"How pretty, on a scale of 1 to 10?" Guthrie persisted.

"Guthrie, that's not the way to judge a girl," Hannah objected.

"Aw, Hannah," Guthrie said, "it doesn't mean anything."

"Well, I don't like it," Hannah said firmly, but when she went to the kitchen, Guthrie asked Ford

again, "One to ten?"

"Guthrie, stop it," Adam ordered.

When Adam followed Hannah, Ford held up all ten fingers in silent admission of Valerie's beauty, and

Evan and Brian laughed.

7

Guthrie went to see Kristin after Ford left, and Evan went to town to play pool with some friends.

I played a game of checkers with Crane, and then sat beside Clare, while she worked on my fingernails. I don't take

care of my nails like a lot of girls do. They're always chipped and ragged looking, especially since I started working at

the vet office, and I hardly ever use nail polish.

I had to admit they looked a lot better though, after Clare had filed on them with an emery board.

While Clare was working on my nails, Hannah made a casual comment.

"That dress you liked at Marshall's is on sale, sweetie. I noticed when I was in town the other day."

I tried to remember what dress she was talking about.

"You know, the one that we saw when we were in town together a couple of weeks ago?" Hannah reminded me.

"Oh, yeah," I remembered. It was a cute dress, black and white stripes with a flouncy skirt.

"I thought you might want to get it, with some of the money you've earned from your job," Hannah suggested.

With the money I'd earned, I'd managed to pay off almost half of the vet bill we owed to Doc G. With the five dollars a week

he insisted that I take, I'd spent most of that on a birthday present for Guthrie. A pair of seat covers for his truck.

"I'm not worried about buying a dress," I said, and Hannah looked at me in surprise.

"You need a new dress for church. I thought you liked it."

"I do like it. But I'm not going to waste my money on anything silly like clothes right now. I have more important things

to do." I didn't realize how definite and curt I sounded

until I saw Hannah's puzzled face, and Adam said quietly, "No need to be rude, Harlie."

I felt my face get warm. "I'm sorry, Hannah," I apologized. "It's just that I don't have the money for the dress right now. I can

make do with the ones I have."

My comment drew the attention of every single person in the room.

"You don't have any money left?" Adam asked, looking incredulous. "Has Doc not been payin' you?"

"He's been paying me," I said quickly.

"You've been workin' there for what? Three weeks now?" Adam asked me.

"Three Saturdays. And then today."

"And you have no money left?" Adam asked again.

"Well, not much," I admitted.

"What in thunder have you been spendin' it on?" Brian asked, looking as surprised as Adam.

"I bought Guthrie a birthday present with some of it," I said, hoping to keep my surprise about the vet bill a secret awhile longer. "And

the rest of it, well, I had something to do."

"Harlie," Crane said, giving me a disappointed look. "You should have saved at least part of it. That's a lot of money to just blow."

I couldn't stand the disappointment on their faces.

I sat up really straight, and looked at all of them earnestly.

"I see how hard you all work, and worry about money! I wouldn't just blow all of it for no good reason!"

"Well, what is it then?" Brian asked me.

I surveyed them all seriously for a minute, while they all looked at me expectantly. "It's sort of a surprise," I said.

"A surprise for who?" Crane asked.

"Well, for all of you. For the family," I said.

"You don't need to be buyin' us all a present," Adam said.

"It's not a present, exactly," I said.

I decided then that it didn't matter really, that I could go ahead and tell them

now about what I'd been working for.

"Just a minute," I said, and stood up, going up to my bedroom, and getting the latest receipt from Doc G out of my top dresser

drawer. I'd paid 80 dollars on the 210 dollars that was owed. I went back downstairs, and handed it to Adam, and he and Brian

stood together, looking at the receipt. Crane stepped closer and read it, too, and then the three of them stared at me.

"What is this?" Adam asked.

"It's what's been paid on the vet bill," I said quietly.

"What vet bill?" Brian demanded. "You mean ours?"

I nodded at him, and Hannah stepped closer to me, and put her arm around my waist. "Oh, sweetie," she said.

"Now, just a minute," Adam began. "What made you think of this?"

"I wanted to do something to help out," I told him. "This seemed like a good way."

Adam opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Brian said, "Hell, no, you're not doin' this!"

I blinked at him. He sounded angry. He looked angry, too.

"Bri-," I began, but he held up a hand to forestall me saying any more.

"This isn't your responsibility," he said. "Your money is yours to spend, on things you need, or save, not to pay our bills."

"But I want to-" I said.

"No," Brian said stubbornly, fiercely, and then he turned to go outside to the front porch, letting the door slam

behind him.

Clare gave me a sympathetic look, and then went outside after Brian.

I was bewildered by Brian's reaction, stunned and a little bit hurt. I looked at Adam, and he must have been able

to read my feelings, because he came over to me, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"Sugar, this is sweet of you, and I appreciate it, I can't even tell you how much I appreciate it. But Brian's right, this

isn't your responsibility. You need to keep your money for the things you need, or want, like the dress Hannah's talkin'

about."

"Adam, I don't care about the dress." I clutched at his hand. "Please try to understand."

Hannah came over and hooked her arm thru Adam's. "Adam, she wants to," she said quietly.

Adam gave me a long look, and then gave a resigned nod.

I smiled at him, and turned to Crane. "Well?" I asked him.

Crane pulled me over and looped his arms around my neck. "You're some kind of special kid, you know that?" he said.

"Oh, I know that," I said lightly, grinning at him.

Crane kissed the top of my head.

"But we'll pay the rest of it," Crane said, and Adam nodded in agreement.

"That's right," Adam said.

"Okay," I conceded.

We all turned as the screen door opened and Clare came back in. She looked a little strained.

I looked at her questioningly, and she came over to me.

"He's just hesitant about it, Harlie. He doesn't mean to make you feel badly."

I nodded, and Hannah pulled me into a hug. She whispered, low, into my ear. "They're proud men, sweetie. This isn't easy for

them, to take from you like this. Try to understand how they feel."

Hannah said they needed to get the turkey ready to go into the oven for the next day, so she and Clare went off

towards the kitchen.

"Come and help, cowboy," Hannah said, turning back to Adam.

When Adam had gone, I looked up at Crane.

"Guess I better talk to Brian," I said, though I didn't want to, and went to the door. Instead of going out right away, I stood at the

screen door looking out at Brian. He was standing with his back turned to me, leaning against a porch column, and looking out

across the pasture.

I opened the screen door and went out, shutting it quietly behind me. Brian didn't seem to hear, because he didn't turn around.

I went up behind him, and hesitated again, and then stood beside him, leaning on the porch railing.

Brian gave me a brief side glance, and then looked out at the cows grazing again.

"Are you mad at me?" I asked quietly.

"Of course not," Brian said, in a clipped tone.

"Because it kind of seems like you are," I said.

"Well, I'm not."

Brian sighed heavily, and I stayed quiet, waiting for him to say something.

"It's not your place to pay our bills," he said.

"I want to help, though."

"Not this way."

"Daniel does, and Evan-" I started to point out.

"That's not the same thing, and you know it."

I sighed, looking up at him.

"It's our job to do for you, not the other way around. You're a kid,

and I want you to have the chance to be a kid. Period. No kid should have

to take on adult responsibilities," he said firmly.

I thought for a minute, trying to formulate the words I needed to say. Finally, instead, I just spoke from my heart.

"You did," I said softly.

That prompted Brian to turn to face me. "What?" he demanded, sounding gruff.

"You were a kid. Not much older than me and Guthrie. And you had to take on adult responsibilities." I didn't remember

those early days, since I'd been just a baby, but I'd heard Daniel and Evan talk about it enough to know that Brian had worked,

and gone to high school, and come home to cook and help take care of me and my brothers.

Brian gave me a narrow-eyed look. "Harlie-" he began.

I wrapped my arms around his waist and looked up into his stern face.

"And what you did for all of us, you and Adam, that's so much more than what I want to do right now. I just paid a little

on a bill. You gave up so much. You raised us."

A range of emotions crossed Brian's face. I took my opportunity to press my point.

"Please, Brian? I want to do this."

Brian lifted his eyes heavenward, as if seeking strength. "Just this time," he said quietly. "This is it. Got it?"

"Got it," I said, smiling at him.

"Alright. Thank you," he said.

"You're welcome."

"You make me damn proud," Brian said, brushing back my hair.

"I do?" I asked, pleased. " You don't say that very often."

"Well," he said, tucking a stubborn curl behind my ear, "I'll try to say it more often, then. Alright?"

That night, as I was drifting off to sleep, it occurred to me that the reason Brian fought so, and felt so strongly about the

whole thing, was because he was remembering how hard it had been for him at seventeen years old to

do what he'd had to do. He didn't want that for us. I smiled to myself. I may not be able to pay bills, but there were

other ways to get around Brian, and help out. I smiled again, and curled up to go to sleep.

7

Thanksgiving Day passed quietly, with Marie joining us, and Doc G stopping by in the late afternoon for

dessert. Guthrie went to pick Kristin up then, too, and she planned to spend the night.

The only thing that would have made the day better was if Daniel had been able to come home. He called that morning, though,

and when it was my turn to talk to him, I took the phone to the bottom of the stairs and sat there to talk to him.

"You're missing out," I told him. "Too bad you can't smell the turkey right now. It's been cooking all night, and it

smells heavenly."

"Ohhhh," Daniel groaned.

"And we're going to have mashed potatoes and gravy, and stuffing, and three kinds of pie."

"Stop. Please. You're torturing me."

I giggled a little. "Sorry," I said.

"No, you're not," he denied.

"Well, what are you going to have to eat?" I asked him.

"We'll grab a bite in a diner more than likely."

"So you can have turkey, too," I said, starting to feel bad for him.

"Yeah. Or chicken, or pizza or somethin'."

"Pizza on Thanksgiving, Daniel? That's just wrong."

"It's alright," he said lightly. "But for sure I'd rather be at home today."

"I'd rather you were, too," I said.

"I'll be home in a few weeks for when the baby's born, and I'll stay thru December."

"That long? That's fantastic!"

"So tell me about your job," Daniel said, and I launched enthusiastically into the subject.

7

I spent the next day hanging around the creek with Guthrie and Kristin and Ford. We took the patched canoe

into the water, and fished for awhile. The four of us went out to the movies together that night, which was a lot of fun.

On Saturday morning, Guthrie was feeling generous, and he let me drive his truck to work. I enjoyed the drive

to Murphys in the cool morning air.

When I went into the office, it was open but Doc G was not in sight. I stuck my head thru the double doors to the

exam/surgery room and saw him sitting on the edge of a table. I was ready to call out to him when I hesitated, and

stayed quiet. From where I stood, I could see that he was running his hand over his forehead.

I'm so unaccustomed to seeing Doc G sit like that, so still and quiet.

I went quietly thru the doors, and walked up to him. He gave me a nod as I approached.

"Good morning," I said.

"Morning, lass."

"Is everything okay?" I asked him.

"Just getting my bearings before things get moving around here. We've a busy morning coming."

"Oh. That's good."

Doc G stood up and surveyed me with a smile.

"Well, Harlie Mac, what do you think? You ready to get this day started?"

"Yes, sir."

"Let's get to it, then."

I was kept hopping all morning, cleaning, and answering the phone. The high point of the morning for me was

helping Doc G deliver a litter of puppies. Sophia was a small dog, a dachshund, and had been brought in the day before by her owner when

they were called out of town unexpectedly. It was her first litter of pups, Doc G said, and after she'd labored all morning, and

only managed to deliver one pup, Doc G did a cescarean section. One of the pups was so small that he fit in the palm of my hand.

"Might not be much chance for that one," Doc said.

"Oh, no!" I protested. "Are you sure?"

"Aw, don't look so sad, lass. There's always hope."

"Do you have a heat lamp?" I asked.

"Around here somewhere."

I went and found an old towel, and wrapped the tiny puppy in it, rubbing him gently. I told Doc G I would clean up the

bloody table, and he nodded, looking grateful.

"I'll have a cup of coffee," he said, and went toward the front office. I watched him go, and I couldn't shake the nagging

feeling that something was off with him. I laid the pup back with his mother and siblings on the soft furry blanket that

Doc had spread in a corner.

I got busy scrubbing the table, and disinfecting it. When it was clean and shiny again, I went in search of Doc G.

"When do the Stoker's get back?" I asked, talking about Sophia's owners.

"They weren't certain. It depends on their family emergency."

"Maybe I could come by tomorrow before church, and after school a couple days next week to check on her and the

puppies."

"No need for that, unless you just want to do it."

"I want to," I said, and went to find a heat lamp, and after finding it, I set it up over the pups.

Doc G summoned me for lunch, and we made our usual trek over to the diner.

Marie came bustling over to take our orders. "Hello, hon," she greeted me. And "Hello, you old scalawag," to Doc.

While we waited for our food, I fiddled with the salt shaker, pushing it back and forth.

"How are you dealing with your diabetes?" Doc G asked suddenly, surprising me a little. He's never talked to me

about that.

"I'm doing alright," I said.

"A true test of strength for you, isn't it?"

I nodded. It was that, for sure.

"I try to have a good attitude about it, but sometimes I drop the ball on that," I admitted.

"Understandable," he said. "Just make certain you pick the ball up again."

I studied Doc across the table as he sipped at his coffee. He was still a handsome man, I thought. Even Clare had

commented that he must have been a real stunner when he was younger. Since he's spent so much time in the sun,

he has a perpetually tanned face, with crinkles at the edges of his eyes.

"So tell me about your plans for your schooling," he said.

"I'm still planning on veterinary school."

"Where?"

"I'm not sure. I liked SC Davis, but I don't think there will be enough money for that. The tuition there is crazy

expensive."

"I've heard that," Doc nodded.

"Daniel said he'd help me, and Crane says there will be a way, but I don't see how. And I don't want to put the

family under that kind of money strain. It'll have to be someplace cheaper."

"I wouldn't underestimate Crane if I were you. He's a determined young fellow."

I had to smile at that. "He is, for sure," I agreed.

"What did they think of you covering the office bill?" he asked, as Carla brought our orders.

"They didn't exactly jump for joy," I admitted, cutting up my meatloaf. "They said they'll pay the rest to you. Brian

says from now on any money I earn I'm supposed to use for myself, or save it."

"I'm sure they were mighty proud of you."

For a few minutes we ate in silence. I thought how nice Doc G was, and how he always seemed to be looking

after not just animals, but people, too.

He never seemed to talk about himself, though, and I realized that I really knew very little about him.

"Where did you go to college at?" I asked him.

Doc G sprinkled pepper on his mashed potatoes. "

"Georgia."

"Georgia!" I said. "I didn't know you used to live in Georgia."

"For a time."

"Have you lived a lot of different places?" I asked.

"I've been around a good bit."

It took some more questions, and some drawing out, but eventually I got Doc G to talk enough to find out he'd lived

in Texas and Tennessee, before coming to California.

"Were you born in Texas?" I asked curiously.

"I was born in Adara."

I wrinkled my forehead, thinking hard. "Adara? Where is that?"

"In Ireland."

I widened my eyes in surprise. "Ireland! I didn't know that!" I sat across the table, studying him with interest

I'd always found Doc G an interesting subject, but now, I'd garnered enough information to raise that to intriguing.

"You don't have an accent, though," I said.

"I was very young when we came to the United States. Three or four years old. I didn't have the brogue that my mother and

father had."

I peppered Doc with questions about Ireland until he held up a hand at me, and told me to finish my meatloaf.

As we walked back to the office, Doc G told me that he would be out of town for a few days at the

end of the week.

"You won't need to come in next Saturday," he told me.

"What about Sophia?" I asked.

"I'd think she'd be back at home by then."

"If she's not, I can go in and check on her and the pups. Keep them fed and all."

Doc G gave me a slow smile. "I'll trust you to see to things, then."

I smiled back, and wondered curiously where he was going, but decided I probably

better not ask.

The next week seemed to drag on and on, as slow as molasses. The talk in the house was

about the coming weekend. Clare and Brian were traveling to San Francisco to visit her sister, who

had left her husband and was living in a women's shelter. What was decided was that Adam and

Hannah would go along, too, as a get-away, and sort of a last outing for Hannah before the baby

was born. Adam didn't want to go, I could tell. It wasn't like he complained or said anything, really.

But I could still tell he didn't really want to go. But Clare said she'd like it if Hannah went along,

and Adam agreed that it would be nice for Hannah to go somewhere different before Ivan Iggy

came along.

We were all at the supper table Thursday night, talking about it.

Clare was more flustered than I'd ever seen her, and talking about her sister. "I'm just so glad she's away from Greg," she said.

"She's still gonna have a rough time of it," Brian said.

"I know, with the baby and all, and no job," Clare agreed.

"The management at the shelter will help her with a job search, won't they?" Adam asked. "And

help her get into her own place?"

"They should," Clare nodded.

"We need to finish packing the food in the cooler," Hannah reminded Clare.

They planned to take some food along so they didn't have to spend as much money.

When Crane spoke up and said he was thinking about going with Lila to meet her parents

in Modesto Saturday night, then the conversation changed somewhat.

"I can put off going," Crane was saying.

"No need for that," Adam told him.

"No, Crane, you should go," Hannah reassured him.

"It's not like we have to worry about anything here," Brian added. "Right, babies?"

Since Evan was gone, out on a date with Nancy, that left only Guthrie and I in the

'baby' category, and we both gave Brian a look.

"Course you don't," Guthrie said, around the apple pie in his mouth.

"Of course you don't," I echoed.

"I'll make sure there's plenty of food for you two and Evan," Hannah said.

"And Ford," Adam said, from his end of the table. "He's comin' home again this weekend. He can

help out with the chores."

I was super happy that Ford was coming home again. I hadn't known that he was planning on

it.

"That's right," Hannah said. "I forgot that he called last night."

"Why's Ford comin' home so soon?" Guthrie asked, chewing, even as he cut himself another

piece of pie.

"Guthrie, for heaven's sake, don't talk with your mouth full," Hannah scolded him.

Guthrie chewed and swallowed, and then gave Hannah a rakish grin. "Sorry," he said.

"Oh, you are not," Hannah waved a hand at him.

"I think that Valerie girl has somethin' to do with Ford comin' home," Adam commented.

"He'll be home every weekend, then," Hannah said, with a smile.

"He can't do that, or he'll lose his job," Adam said.

"Well, she should be going back to college soon," Hannah reassured him.

"So we can count on the two of you to help Evan and Ford out this weekend?" Adam

asked, looking at Guthrie and I.

"Yeah, we'll keep 'em in line, won't we, Har?" Guthrie asked, nudging me in the side.

"Sure, we will," I said, finishing my milk.

"Okay. And I don't have to worry about any shenanigans, right?" Adam raised an eyebrow.

"Naw," Guthrie said, "I think we can keep Evan and Ford out of trouble, alright."

I giggled at that, but Adam didn't look particularly amused.

"Very funny," he said. "I happen to be speaking of you two."

7


	7. Rising water of Sugar Creek

Guthrie and Evan and I were besieged the next morning with instructions, and orders, and

cautionary admonishments. Between Brian and Adam and Hannah, I was relieved to

leave for school.

"Whew!" I sighed.

"Yeah," Guthrie agreed, knowing exactly what I meant.

"They act like we really are babies," I complained.

"Yeah."

I rubbed my head.

"You okay?" Guthrie asked me.

"Just a headache. I'll be okay."

"Well, get ready, cause we'll have to hear more from Crane in the mornin' before he

leaves."

"Gahhhh," I groaned.

"What are you doin' this weekend?" Guthrie asked me.

"With the list of chores Adam left? You're kidding, right?"

"That won't take all weekend."

"I've got to go to the office in the morning to check on the doxie and her puppies. I promised Doc G

that I would."

"Well, after that? Kristin and I are goin' to the movies. You could come." Guthrie looked at

me hopefully. "Maybe with Tony?"

I sighed. "Guthrie, why are you always trying to push Tony on me?"

"I'm not tryin' to push him on you. I just thought you might want to go, that's all. Don't

get your bloomers in a bunch."

"My bloomers are just fine, thank you very much," I responded.

Guthrie shrugged and popped a piece of gum in his mouth.

"I'll think about it," I conceded, giving him a light punch in the arm.

7

After school I had Guthrie take me by the vet office, where I fed and gave fresh water to

Sophia. Four of the puppies seemed fine, though the littliest one still worried me.

"Aren't they cute?" I asked Guthrie, as I knelt beside Sophia on the floor.

Guthrie agreed that they were indeed, very cute, but nagged at me to hurry up, so

we could get home.

I checked the answering machine, and wrote down the messages, in case Doc G called

to check in over the weekend. There was one from Sophia's owners, saying that they wouldn't

be home until Monday. Tucking the paper into my pocket, I shooed Guthrie out, and locked up.

Since Crane was still home that night, he made a big pot of spaghetti, which he, and Evan and

Guthrie and I were in the middle of eating when Ford got home, and came in, hollering to everyone.

"Kitchen!" Evan yelled back, and Ford appeared at the doorway.

"Hey," he said in a general greeting to all of us.

We all said hello back, and Ford's face lit up. "Spaghetti," he said happily, and went to

get a plate out of the cabinet.

After supper I washed the dishes while Crane dried them.

When he asked me what I was going to do the next day, I told him about going into the

office to check on Sophia and her pups.

He nodded, and then said, "Don't forget about your tutoring. Mrs. Stevens will be here at two, right?"

"Uh huh."

"How's your grade?" he asked.

"A C, I think."

"Report cards come out, when? Two weeks?"

"Before Christmas break."

"You feeling okay about it? Mrs. Stevens, I mean. You like her?"

"Yeah. I do."

"Okay. Good."

Evan came to the kitchen doorway. "Crane, phone," he said.

Crane laid down the dishtowel and went to answer the phone.

Evan started pouring himself a glass of milk, and then put the milk back in the refrigerator.

I turned to lean against the kitchen counter. "I have some money. I'll spring for pizza tomorrow

night."

Evan nodded. "Sounds like a good plan."

"Aren't you going out with Nancy?"

"Naw, I'll stick around home probably. Hang out with Ford." He took a drink of his milk. "And you," he added.

"Gee, thanks. Nice to be an afterthought," I told him.

"Oh, I didn't mean it that way," he said, with a roll of his eyes.

Rain was hammering the roof as I went to sleep that night, and once, in the night, when I got up,

I went to pull the curtains back in Adam and Hannah's bedroom, and could see the lightning across the

sky.

The sun was out the next morning, though, when Crane left early. Lila came by to pick him up. She was dressed in a navy blue

skirt, and a red blouse. I didn't really know her all that well, but she seemed nice. Sort of quiet.

After she'd said hello to all of us, Crane put his bag into the back seat of her car, and Lila handed

him the keys, and got in on the passenger side.

"She's lettin' you drive her car, huh?" Evan teased him. "Must be serious."

"Yeah, yeah," Crane said. He turned to face the four of us.

"You two listen to what Evan says, alright?" he told Guthrie and I.

"Man, the impossible things you ask of a person," Guthrie joked.

"I left the number of Lila's parent's on the desk," Crane said. "Call if you need me for anything. I'll

be able to get home quicker than Adam and Brian."

"Yeah, just go already, will ya?" Evan said, and Guthrie gave him a push towards Lila's

car.

"Don't forget your shot tonight," he told me, settling into the driver's seat.

"No. I won't," I promised.

"If you go somewhere tonight, I'd rather you go with Guthrie," Crane said.

"Oh, Crane," I protested.

"Don't 'oh, Crane' me, alright?"

"I'm staying home tonight," I told him. "Don't worry."

When Crane had finally driven down the long driveway and was out of sight, I breathed a

deep sigh, echoed by Guthrie.

"Can I drive your truck into town so I can check on the dogs?" I asked Evan.

"Yeah," he agreed. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a twenty dollar

bill. "Stop and get some Coke and some more milk, alright?"

"Okay," I said, and held out my hands for him to pass me the keys.

"Don't be gone too long," Evan called after me. "We've got a lot of chores to do."

I climbed into the truck, and waved at the three of them out the window.

I enjoyed my freedom as I drove into town, with the windows down, and the

radio blaring. Everything smelled so fresh and clean after the rain.

I went to the office, and did the few things that needed doing, and then locked up again,

after assuring Sophia that I would be back the next morning.

At the store, I saw Lori and some other girls from school, and stood talking to them

for awhile. The conversation mainly centered on a party that night at Hell's Bend.

"You should come, Harlie," Chelsea told me, and some of the others nodded

in agreement.

"Yeah. It should be a fun time," Carrie Stoughton added.

When the girls had gone on, I was left standing there with Lori.

"You going to go?" she asked me.

"No, I don't think I'd better," I told her.

"My dad's out of town, so it'd be easier, but I'd probably won't either. How about you?"

"Yeah, I've got an empty house, too. Well, not empty," I said, thinking of Evan and

Ford. "But emptier, anyway."

Lori's mom motioned at her from the front of the store, so she said,

"Call me later. I think I can borrow my mom's car tonight. Especially if she

knows I'm going to the movies with you."

I'd bought the Coke and the two gallons of milk, and I was shoving them into the truck seat, when I heard my name from behind.

"Hey there, Harlie."

I turned quickly. "Hi, Eddie," I said.

Eddie leaned against the side of Evan's truck, giving me a smile.

"What have you been up to?" he asked me.

We talked for a while, and he invited me into Butch's Place for a Coke.

I was having such a good time with him, that when I looked at the big clock hanging over the pool table

I was shocked to see that it was eleven-thirty. I'd been gone from the house for nearly three

hours. I was sure the boys were wondering where I was at.

When I told Eddie that I needed to be going, he walked outside with me, where the sun

had faded, and rain clouds were gathering again in the sky.

"Think you can give me a ride to my cousin's house?" Eddie asked.

I hesitated, not sure how to explain that I was already late getting home.

"Where does he live?" I asked, and Eddie mentioned a road about ten miles out of town, one that

I was unfamiliar with.

"There's a back way to your house from there. I'll show it to you," he told me.

I didn't want Eddie to think I was a baby, or that I had to hurry home. He was nice, and I liked him a lot.

"Sure. No problem," I said, and we started out, the jugs of milk sliding in the seat between us.

Finally, Eddie moved them to the floor at his feet. He grinned at me.

"That's better," he said.

We made casual talk as we drove along, with Eddie giving me instructions on where to turn.

When we reached the cousin's house, Eddie got out and then came around to my side.

"Thanks, Harlie," he said, giving me another one of those devastating smiles. I swear, he had

the whitest, straightest teeth of anybody I'd ever met.

"It's okay."

Eddie pointed in the opposite direction. "If you follow that road about six miles, you'll end up

at the highway, and then you can follow it to your house."

"Okay."

He stood there, just looking at me, and so intently that I was a little embarrassed.

"So, Harlie, if I ask you to dinner and a movie, are you going to turn me down?"

"No," I managed, mesmerized by his blue eyes. "I won't."

"Okay. I can't tonight, but I'll call you soon, alright?"

I nodded. "Alright."

And then, swiftly, Eddie leaned into the open window, and kissed me lightly.

"Bye, Harlie," he said, and gave me a jaunty wave, walking towards the house.

I was feeling darn good as I drove, light, and happy. Eddie had kissed me!

There were a lot of hills on this road, and as I came down a particularly steep one,

I saw there was a low water crossing. The creek there was out of its banks, and flowing

across the road. Sugar Creek. Though a part of it that I'd never seen.

I braked to a stop, looking at it consideringly. I was surprised, but there

had been a lot of rain lately. An abnormal amount for our area.

I got out, walking to the edge and surveying it. The water was moving along at

a good clip. I looked back toward where I'd come. Eddie had said six miles this way and I'd meet

the highway. If I turned around and went back the ten miles to town, and then home, I'd be

even later getting there. If I missed my tutoring session with Mrs. Stevens, Crane would not be happy.

Neither, for that matter, would Adam.

I went back to the truck and got in again. I sat there a couple more minutes, thinking.

I made up my mind on what to do, and put the truck in gear. I should have no problem, I was

sure. It was just a little water.

I creeped slowly to the edge of where the water began. Then, taking a deep breath, I drove

into it. I kept my speed slow, but I was barely into the water when I was shocked by

the strength of the current. I felt panic immediately rise up, and my heart started pounding

in fright. It seemed that the entire truck was floating, and I couldn't feel the tires on the

road anymore. I didn't know where the truck ended and the water began.

I started yelling. "Noooo! No, no no!"

I pressed the accelerator to the floorboard, thinking maybe that would help, and that

I could still come out of this alright. I would get thru the water, and get home just fine, and

Evan or anyone else, would never have to know.

I was still thinking that, even talking aloud to myself. "It's gonna be fine. I can do this."

Then the truck did a spin sideways in the water, swept by the current, and set upon the

low-hanging branches of a tree. Caught for the moment, I screamed in fear. I didn't know

how long the branches could hold the weight of the truck still, before it was swept on down

the creek, with me in it. I took a split second to make my next decision. I eyed the water out my open

window. It looked like it was halfway up the height of the truck.

"Bat shit!" I swore vehemently, "Damn, damn, damn!"

I knew I had no choice but to make an escape from the truck. I tried opening the door, which of

course didn't work, since the force of the water was so fierce I couldn't even budge the door.

I took off my boots quickly, and, mourning the loss of those boots already, I went thru the window.

Now, I'm a fairly decent swimmer, and it looked to be a short distance to where the water ended. Or began.

Whichever way you wanted to look at it.

But, strong swimmer or not, I had to struggle to swim, to keep my head above the swirling, dark

water. It was deeper than it looked.

I was pulled under, and came up with a mouthful of dirty water. I put everything I had into

reaching the safety of dry land.

When I made it, I dropped to my knees, saying a fervent prayer of thanks. I scooted up further,

sitting there a few minutes, crying hysterically. The truck was still in the relatively same spot, it looked

like, though it was bobbing and rocking.

I tried to figure out what to do. I had to get help, and quickly, before the truck floated on down

Sugar Creek. I was back on the side of the road leading to the house where I'd dropped Eddie

off. I gave one final look back at the truck as I started up the hill.

Two German Shepherds came running up to me as I approached the house. One of them growled low

in his throat, and I knew I might get bitten, but at that particular moment I couldn't bring myself to care.

I knocked on the door, or pounded really, and a guy who looked vaguely familiar opened it.

"I need-to talk to Eddie," I managed, out of breath.

Eddie was there almost instantly, opening the door wider.

"Harlie," he said, "what the heck? Are you okay?"

"Nooo," I said. I pointed down the hill. "I need help! Evan's truck-" I leaned over, coughing,

and I was ushered into the house, where an older woman who I also thought I recognized,

took over, wrapping a blanket around me. She was, I found out later, Eddie's aunt Lucy, the

mother of his cousin, Mike. I knew I must be a sight, dripping wet, and muddy, my curls wet and

springing out of my braid.

"I have to call home," I said, crying, and explaining to them that Evan's truck was in the water.

"Sure thing," Mike said, and gestured to the phone. "It's right there."

I walked to the phone, and dialed the number, and then when it started ringing, I lost what

little nerve I had, and thrust the receiver at Eddie.

"I-I can't," I said.

Someone had answered, because Eddie started talking.

"Hey, this is Eddie Marmon. Is this Evan?"

He listened, and then said, "Hey, Ford. Harlie's here with me. I'm at Mike's. She

had some trouble driving thru the creek-"

He stopped talking to listen, then continued, "Yeah, she's okay, I think. Wet. And scared. Mike

and I'll hike on down there to take a look. We might be able to pull it out of there for ya'all."

More listening on Eddie's end, while I watched with my heart in my throat, twisting the blanket

between my fingers.

"Okay. We'll see you there," Eddie said, and hung up the phone.

"What did Ford say?" I asked immediately, my words coming so fast that they ran into

each other.

"He's worried about you," Eddie said, and turned to Mike. "Can you fire up the tractor, and we'll see

if we can pull it out."

"Sure," Mike said, and headed out the back door.

"Evan and Ford are heading over," Eddie told me. "Why don't you stay here and dry off?"

"Yes, of course she will," Mike's mother spoke up. "Would you like a cup of hot tea, dear? I find

that a cup of tea always helps."

I was struck with a vision of Hannah's smiling face, enjoying her hot tea, and I found it hard

to breathe for a minute. Sweet, understanding Hannah. I wished she was at home right now,

waiting to comfort me, and protect me from angry brothers.

"No," I said. "Thank you." I took the blanket from my shoulders and laid it on the couch. "I'll go

with you," I told Eddie.

"Well, let me loan you some shoes," Aunt Lucy said, and was back in a moment with a pair of

slip on shoes. "These are my tomato picking shoes," she added, with a smile that I didn't feel up to returning.

We hiked down the road, and down the road, moving out of the way as Mike went around us

on the tractor.

"I don't think you'll be able to pull it out," I said worriedly.

"The old John Deere has a lot of power. We'll give it a good try."

I felt so awkward walking beside Eddie. He must think I was really stupid.

"Thank you," I said. "For your help. You and Mike." My voice broke off.

"Hey," Eddie said, looking at me kindly. "It's going to be okay."

I shook my head in discouragement. "I don't think things will ever be okay again. Evan's

going to kill me. He's probably going to disown me."

" Aw, Evan's a pretty good guy," Eddie said.

"I know he is. But-his truck-"

Eddie reached down and took my hand. I was grateful to him for the comforting gesture,

but too upset to fully appreciate the fact that he was holding my hand.

When we reached the overflowing creek, Mike was already off of the tractor, and standing at

the edge, contemplating things. The truck was further down the creek a bit, still caught by the

bank, and branches. I was relieved at first to see it. I had half expected it to be completely

swept away. Maybe, just maybe, things would be alright. Maybe Mike and Eddie would be able

to pull it out, and we could get it home, and it would be none the worse, and Evan wouldn't

hate me.

I watched as Eddie and Mike had a low conversation at the edge of the water. They took a heavy

looking chain from the tractor, and waded out into the water. Soon they were shoulder deep in

water, and I went to the edge, watching, one hand pressed to my mouth.

They were both a ways from the truck, when they stopped, and I wondered what they were

doing, pulling and tugging on the chain. The rain clouds from earlier had grown and multiplied, and

it began to rain. I stood there, already wet and getting wetter, watching, and hoping.

I don't know how much time passed. I felt chilled, and sick, and I wondered how long it would

be before Evan and Ford came. I wished mightily for Guthrie, and his unflappable reassurance. Let's see, five miles to Murphys from our

house, and then ten miles out this way. How long would that take them? They would probably drive

really fast. They'd come this way, wouldn't they? What if they came the shortcut and ended up on

the other side of the creek from where I stood? They'd be closer to the truck. Maybe they could

pull the truck out from that side, and go on home without me. Maybe they'd wave at me as they

drove away. One less McFadden. I turned as I heard the roaring of a vehicle coming up behind me.

At the foot of the hill as I was, it looked like the truck was moving really fast, zooming down.

I felt suddenly sick at my stomach, and dizzy. I stepped to the side. When I saw that it was

Guthrie's truck, and saw his lanky long legs step out, I was filled with a sense of relief.

"Guthrie!" I said, and ran to him, throwing my arms around his neck.

"What happened?" Guthrie asked.

"I thought I could manage it-I didn't think it was that deep-" I babbled.

Then Ford was beside me, pulling me from Guthrie.

"Are you hurt?" he demanded, holding me with both hands and looking me over.

I shook my head, clutching at his arms.

"You sure?" Ford persisted.

"Yes."

Evan was staring at his truck, looking shocked.

"I'm sorry, Evan-" I began.

"What in the hell were you thinkin'?" he hollered, so loudly that I stepped backwards and clutched onto Guthrie again.

"I thought I could do it-" I began.

"What were you doin' over here anyway?!"

"Later, Ev," Ford told him, laying a hand on his arm.

Evan gave me a horrible, angry glare. Then he stomped off to meet up with Ernie and Mike,

who were both trailing back thru the water, carrying the chain. Ford gave me another pat and

went off to join them, where the four of them had a huddled conversation, of which I could only

hear a few words. Then Ford came back over.

"Guthrie, do you have a chain in the toolbox?" he asked.

"Yeah," Guthrie said, turning to go get it. Since I didn't want to turn loose of him, I went, too. He popped open the tool box

in the back of his truck and pulled out a long chain, similar to the one Mike and Eddie were holding. When we were all

standing by the edge of the creek, I surmised from the conversation that they needed to hook the two chains together to

make enough length.

Mike backed up the tractor to the edge of the water, and waited. Evan and Eddie and Ford waded in,

and made their way to the truck. Guthrie moved to start pulling off his boots.

"What are you going?!" I asked him, in a panic.

"I'm gonna go help."

"No!" I protested, holding tight to his arm. "Stay here! Don't leave me, Guthrie, please!"

Guthrie gave me a look, and patted me. "You're okay. Just stay here and-"

"Nooo," I said, knowing I sounded whiny, but not caring.

"Har," Guthrie said firmly, dislodging me from his side. "You're alright. I'll be right back."

I watched as he waded in and joined the others.

I could hear their voices, but over the rush of the water I couldn't make out the words.

Eddie hooked one end of the chain to the back of the tractor and then went back into the water, and I watched as Evan

dove under the water near the front of the truck, then came back up sputtering. I watched as Ford and Eddie went behind the

truck, and started to push it toward the bank. Or attempt to do that. It didn't seem to me that they made much progress in moving

it. Apparently, I was wrong, though, because the truck seemed to break loose from its hold by the tree branches, and began

to move further down.

I heard what sounded like Ford's voice yelling, and then Guthrie and Evan both dove under the water near the front again,

attempting, I figured, to hook the other end of the chain to the truck somehow.

When they came up, Evan waved a hand at Mike, perched on the tractor, waiting. Mike started pulling forward

on the tractor, and the truck jerked, and lurched, and began to move toward the bank. There was more yelling as the truck

seemed to catch on more branches. At one point, the chain came off the truck's front bumper, obvious even to me, since the

truck began floating backwards.

I heard an assortment of swear words from all of the guys, and yelling, and then Guthrie dove under again to reattach

the chain. He took so long coming back up that I began to scream.

I screamed Guthrie's name over and over, and yelled at Ford and Evan to help him.

When his brown head came to the surface again, I sank to the ground on my knees, my stomach heaving. I couldn't watch

anymore.

I half-laid on the grass at the side of the road, until I heard Mike yelling.

"Harlie!" he yelled, and when I looked up, he motioned me further off the road. "Move out of the way!"

I got up quickly, to get out of the way, as Mike inched the tractor forward, pulling the truck slowly behind, until it was

out of the water, on the road again, and they were all standing beside it, soaked to the skin and muddy, and breathing hard.

"I knew that old John Deere could do it," I heard Eddie exclaim.

They came sloshing past me. They tried to pull the doors open, and finally succeeded, water rushing out.

"We'll pull it on up to the house," Mike called to Evan.

As he did that, jerking and pulling the truck along, up the hill, Evan turned to me, his hands on his hips.

"What the hell were you doin' over this way?!"

Before I could formulate an answer, Eddie spoke up, sounding regretful.

"She was giving me a ride, Evan. It's not her fault."

"It is her fault," Evan said grimly. "She knew she was supposed to be home."

I watched Evan, biting my lip.

"And even if you did come this way, why in hell would you go thru water?!" Evan ranted on. "That's got to be one of the

most bone-headed things you've ever done!"

"I should have thought about the creek being out," Eddie said, but Evan ignored his defense of me totally, and continued to glare at me.

"I thought I could make it-" I began.

"Well, obviously, that didn't happen, now did it?" Evan said, sarcasm evident.

"I'm sorry!" I said.

"Well, sorry doesn't help one damn bit!" he yelled.

"I made a mistake!"

"You sure did!"

I knew Evan had the right to be mad. I understood that. I did. But yelling at me like this, and in front of Eddie, well,

I'd had enough. I turned my back and started walking up the hill, crying. The rain was starting to taper off again, and

the sun was trying to reappear. I heard Guthrie's truck fire up, and then go around me, and even though I tried not to look,

I could see Evan's stony face, as he and Guthrie drove by. Eddie, sitting on the tail gate to ride, gave me a sympathetic look.

I kept walking, my jeans clinging to my legs. The sound of steps walking behind me, then beside me, steady as could be,

was comforting. Ford didn't say anything. He just walked with me, up the hill, and when I stopped at the top, he stopped, too.

Waiting.

"I'm stupid, Ford."

"Stop it."

"Will the truck be alright?"

Ford hesitated. "It's hard to say. If the water got in the intake manifold, then it could be bad."

I didn't have any idea what an intake manifold was, and I was too tired to ask.

"I don't feel good, Ford," I told him.

"Have you eaten?" he asked, scrutinizing me.

I thought a minute, feeling dizzy. "Not since breakfast," I said.

"Let's get to the truck," he said, and when we were in Mike's yard, Ford pulled down the tailgate of Guthrie's truck,

and steadied me until I was sitting on it.

"Sit here," he said. "I'll be right back."

I sat there, feeling dizzy, and nauseous. I could see the guys unhooking the chains, and raising the hood of Evan's truck.

I watched them, feeling as if I was detached, and they were in a movie, and this whole thing wasn't real.

Ford came back, a candy bar and a cup of water in his hand.

He handed the candy bar to me, and when my hands shook trying to open it, he took it back from me, and tore the wrapper,

and then handed it back again.

I ate the candy bar, and drank the water, and felt a little better, less fuzzy. Aunt Lucy, as I thought of her, came over.

"Ford says you're not feeling well, dear."

"I'm better now."

"Come inside, so I can fix you some proper lunch," she fussed.

I appreciated her offer, but I just wanted to go home. I looked at Ford.

He took the empty cup from my hand, and handed it to her.

"Thank you, ma'm, but I'm gonna take my sister on home," Ford said, and took my arm to pull me off the tailgate.

"Thank you," I said to her, as Ford propelled me to the front of Guthrie's truck. He went and had a quick conversation

with Evan, and then came back over to me, followed by Guthrie.

The three of us drove along in silence for a ways, and then I said, dully, "How's Evan getting home?"

"Mike's gonna bring him," Guthrie volunteered. "They're gonna pull the truck to Jake's for him."

"Oh."

More silence for a few minutes, and then I said, "I forgot to give Aunt Lucy back her shoes."

Guthrie gave me a puzzled look. "Huh?"

"She might need them, you know? She might want to pick tomatoes," I said, as if I was making total sense.

Guthrie and Ford both looked at me, and then at each other. I knew they were thinking I was out of my head.

"There's a party tonight," I said, leaning my head against Ford's shoulder, and feeling so sleepy that I closed my eyes. "It should

be a good time."

Guthrie gave a growl. "You're not goin' to any party."

"In for a penny, in for a pound," I said, without opening my eyes.

7


	8. Home by eleven?

When we finally got home, I went upstairs to take a shower, and I came back down to find the house empty, and quiet.

I didn't know where Guthrie and Ford had gotten to. Probably doing chores. I knew I should go out and help, and do my own

chores, but I just plain didn't feel like it.

I went to the kitchen, and made myself a ham sandwich with tomatoes and lettuce. I ate it, and surprised myself by

making and eating an entire second one. I drank two glasses of milk, and went to the living room. The phone rang, but I ignored

it, laying down on the couch. Finally, the answering machine picked up, and Adam's steady voice spoke.

"Hey, kids. Just checkin' in to see how everything is, and see if the house is still standin'. I'll call back."

I started thinking about the irony of what Adam had said. The house was still standing alright,

but Evan's truck had nearly floated away down Sugar Creek.

The phone rang again, and the answering machine came on. "This is Dora Stevens. Noone seemed to be around

today, when I came by for Harlie's tutoring session. I hope everything's alright, and I'd appreciate a call back."

I turned over and closed my eyes. Great. Now I could add missing tutoring to my list of transgressions. Crane

was not going to be happy.

When I woke up a little later, it was because the boys were talking, and rattling around being noisy, and I laid there, pretending to still

be sleeping. After awhile, I could smell pork chops cooking, and then Evan came in, and I could him talking to Guthrie and

Ford. They were talking about the truck, and what Jake had said about it. When I heard the talk progress to what the extent of the damage

might be, I covered my head with the quilt.

Somebody pushed the flashing light of the answering machine, and the two messages played back.

"Damn," I heard Evan mutter.

More stomping back and forth across the wooden floors, and clanging of dishes in the kitchen.

The phone rang again, and this time Guthrie answered.

"Hullo."

And then, "Hey, Adam."

A forced sounding chuckle from Guthrie, and then he said, "Yeah. House is still standin'."

Quiet on Guthrie's end, and then, "Yeah. Ford's fixin' some food right now."

More Adam talking. Then Guthrie said, "Yeah. Just a second."

I heard Guthrie lay the phone down, and yell for Evan.

"Adam wants to talk to ya," Guthrie told him.

After Evan said, 'Hey, Adam', the rest of the conversation consisted of Evan answering questions that were

obviously about work around the ranch.

"Yeah. We got that done."

Then, "Huh? No, not yet."

Next, "We got tied up with other stuff. We'll get it done tomorrow."

Since my mishap of today was obviously the 'other stuff' that had kept them from doing ranch work that needed to be done, I groaned, and

waited for Evan to tell Adam about what had happened. My stomach felt like it was jumping all around in nervousness.

I uncovered my head, and looked over toward Evan. From the way he was standing, he could plainly see my movements, and he looked

right at me, our eyes meeting.

"We'll get an early start on things in the mornin'," Evan continued talking. "You all havin' a good time?"

Listening on Evan's end, and then he said, "Um, she's been sleepin'. "

I didn't want to talk to Adam. Even though what had happened today wasn't technically a punishable offense, it had

still been stupid, and was likely to cost a lot of money to take care of, and Adam was most likely going to yell. I hate it when he does.

Evan raised his eyebrows questioningly at me, pointing to the receiver. I shook my head slightly, silently imploring Evan not to call me to the

phone.

Evan listened again.

"Yeah. She's okay. We'll make sure she eats."

"Alright. Bye." Evan hung up, and started towards the kitchen, walking past the couch. I was still laying down, and I

looked up at him.

"How come you didn't tell Adam what happened?" I asked quietly.

Evan stopped walking to look down at me. "I don't know," he shrugged. "I figure he'll hear about it soon enough. He'd be worried. No sense

in ruining their weekend."

"Oh," I said, in a small voice. So it wasn't out of any soft feeling or loyalty to me that had kept him quiet. I couldn't help

the prickling of hurt that I felt, even though I knew that bordered on ridiculous. After all, I'd made his truck inoperable. Of course

he wasn't going to feel charitable towards me.

"Can your truck be fixed?" I asked. "Or is the intake manifold ruined?"

If Evan was surprised by my sudden knowledge of mechanical terminology, he didn't show it.

"Not sure yet," he said. " Jake'll know more at the first of the week. But, more than likely, yeah, I'll have to total it out."

I felt tears nearing the surface. "I'm sorry, Evan. I really am."

"I know," Evan answered. But that was all he said. He didn't smile at me, or say that he forgave me, or say anything at all

to reassure me.

Then, sounding like he was discouraged to the limit, and wrung out, he said glumly, "Somethin' will work out." Then, to add

insult to injury, he sighed heavily and went off towards the kitchen, apparently done with the conversation.

Well, I laid there a couple of minutes, squeezing the tears back. I felt, as Guthrie would say, lower than a snake's belly.

"Har!" Ford hollered out. "Come and eat!"

I sat up, but I stayed still, just sitting there, staring into space, until Ford came into the living room.

"Hey," he said, coming over to the couch. "Come on. I've got supper ready."

"I'm not hungry."

"You have to eat somethin'," Ford began to protest.

"I did. I ate when we first got home."

Ford looked unconvinced. "Still, you need to come and try to eat some more. I made pork chops and

baked potatoes-"

"No, thanks."

"Now, Har," Ford said, and I could tell he was winding up to reason with me, and cajole me.

I looked at Ford's worried face, and felt sorry. None of this was Ford's fault.

"I'm alright, Ford, honest. I ate two sandwiches. Save me a pork chop for later."

"Well, alright," Ford said grudgingly.

I stood up, and patted his arm. "I've gotta call Lori," I told him and went over to the telephone,

and sat down on the bottom step with it. I could hear Ford's heavy sigh from across the room, as he

turned to go back to the kitchen.

When Lori's mother called her to the phone, we discussed, me in a low tone, about going out that night.

"I'm scared about going to that party," Lori confessed.

"Me, too," I agreed. "Let's just go to the movies, then. I've got to get out of the house for awhile."

We made our plans, and I hung up, going up to put on some jeans and a yellow lace tank top. I put a wide headband

over my curls, and put on some makeup, more than I usually wear, blush and eyeliner. I pulled on my dressy cowboy boots

that Brian had bought me, and started down the stairs. As an afterthought I went back to my room, and took the money Doc G had

paid me, and put it in my jeans pocket. Then I headed down to the kitchen, where Evan, Ford and Guthrie all stopped talking to look up at me,

taking in my dressy appearance.

"Where you goin'?" Guthrie asked, reaching for a piece of bread.

"With Lori," I said casually, going to the cabinet and getting down a glass.

"To where?" Guthrie persisted.

"Movies," I said.

"I don't think you should go anywhere tonight," Ford objected.

I poured myself a glass of lemonade from the pitcher in the refrigerator, and then closed the door, taking a long drink, and looking at Ford.

"You've had a rough day," Ford continued. "You were feelin' sick earlier."

I waited for Evan to have something to say about that, maybe a smart comment about how what happened was

my own fault, or how it was his truck that had really had a rough day. But he didn't say anything. He just kept on eating,

watching me with a look on his face that I couldn't decipher. Real serious, and kind of stony.

"It's just the movies," I told Ford. "Not the Olympics."

Ford frowned at me, looking worried.

"Ford's right," Evan spoke up. "Maybe you had oughta stay home."

I don't know what came over me. I just opened my mouth and heard a smart comment come out. "Is that an order?" I asked

Evan, giving him a look.

"Har, don't be like that," Ford told me, chidingly.

Evan, however, gave me a steady look right back, his eyes never moving from mine. "No. It's not an order."

"Well, good," I said, and then fished the money out of my pocket, laying it on the table.

"There," I said.

When Evan gave me a questioning raised eyebrow, I said, "I'll give you more when I get paid again, until I make

right what I owe you, towards repairs, or a different truck."

Ford and Guthrie stopped eating and watched the conversation between Evan and I.

Evan gave the money a push away, back towards me. "Let's see what Jake finds out first, and what insurance says, before we worry about

what you owe."

I felt tears threatening to burst forth again, and I did not want to cry in front of any of them.

"No," I said, curtly, insistently. "Take it," I said, and shoved it back towards him. "I'll pay you, even if it takes the rest of my life."

There was a loaded silence, and I could feel the tension in the room.

"Okay," Evan said quietly.

"Okay!" I said, and looked away from him.

"Maybe Kristin and me will see you at the movie," Guthrie said, and I could tell he was trying to ease things.

"Okay," I said.

"I'll see you guys later," I said, in a rush, and started out of the kitchen.

"Hey," Evan said, and I turned back.

"What?" I asked impatiently, eager to go before I did start to cry.

"Be home by 11:00, alright?" Evan told me. I couldn't think of any reason why I wouldn't be home by then.

But I was feeling cantankerous, and I blinked at him and then turned away again.

"Whatever," I said.

7

I only had to wait a few minutes outside until Lori pulled up, in her mother's car.

I hurried to get in, and we drove down the long driveway.

I told Lori about what had happened that day. Her eyes were wide as she looked over at me.

"Wow," she breathed. "My brother would kill me. He pinned me to the ground when I accidently knocked one of his

football trophies over and broke it. I thought he was going to punch me in the face. It's just good that my dad was there

to pull him off of me."

"He got that mad about a football trophy?" I asked, shocked.

"Yeah. You know how Brent is. Did Evan go ballistic on you?"

"He yelled at me," I told her.

"Yeah? And? Did he call you names?"

"He said I was boneheaded."

"That's it?" Lori asked incredulously.

"Well, yeah. But he was really mad."

"Did he hit you or anything?" she continued.

"No."

"Well, I think he was pretty nice about it, then," Lori said. "I mean, his truck is likely ruined. Brent wouldn't have been like that. He would have-"

"Yeah, okay," I interrupted her. "Let's not talk about it anymore. It's going to be bad enough tomorrow when everybody

gets home and finds out."

"Okay. Sorry," Lori said.

We stopped at the Dari Kurl in Murphys to get a shake before driving to the movie theater. After getting out and mingling

with some of the other kids, I started to feel a little better. I would go to the movies, I thought, and have a good time, and

then I'd go home and try to talk to Evan again.

Lori and I were getting ready to head to Angels Camp when I felt a tap on my shoulder, and turned to see Eddie standing

there.

"Hi," I said, feeling my face get hot. I thought he liked me, I mean he had kissed me, after all. But I was embarrassed, too,

because he'd been a witness to my stupidity of driving into the water, and to seeing Evan yell at me.

"How're you doing?" he asked me, smiling.

"Alright," I smiled back.

"Aunt Lucy was real worried about ya."

"Will you tell her thank you for me, and that I'm alright now?"

"I'll tell her." Eddie looked over at Lori, talking to some other kids. "So what are you and Lori up to tonight?"

"Just going to the movies," I said. "To see 'Big'. With Tom Hanks."

"Sounds fun," Eddie said.

"It sounds like a good movie," I said. "Have you seen it?"

"Naw, not yet," Eddie said, and I hoped he would suggest going with us, or maybe meeting us there. Maybe he would

sit by me. My mind was already jumping ahead to Eddie possibly even holding my hand in the dark theatre.

"Hey, Harlie," Eddie said, bringing me out of my reverie. "I'd like to talk to ya for a minute."

"Oh. Okay," I said, feeling my stomach get all fluttery.

"Let's go over here," Eddie said, and took my hand, leading me towards the side of the Dari Kurl building, where

there was less crowd. I was feeling pretty good, walking along with Eddie, and I saw Lori look my way, and then

smile, and give me a thumbs up sign.

I figured Eddie was going to ask me out again, and, so, with my thoughts going along those happy lines, I

was startled when we'd stopped walking, and Eddie looked down at me, his face all serious.

"I like you, Harlie."

I thought it was funny that he looked so serious when he was saying something so nice, so I smiled at him,

flirting a little. "I like you, too," I told him.

"You're a real pretty girl," Eddie went on. "And you're a lot of fun, too."

"Thank you," I said, but there was something in his voice that was making me nervous.

"The thing is, though, I think maybe I'm a little bit too old for you," Eddie said.

"What?" I asked, staring at him, confused. What was he talking about?

"I'm twenty, Harlie. You need to date guys your own age. Or closer to your age, anyway."

I stared at him. "Why are you saying this? You just asked me out this morning. You kissed me-"

Eddie ran a hand thru his dark hair, looking uncomfortable. "I know, and I shouldn't have. That was wrong."

"Kissing me was a mistake?" I asked, hurt, wondering what was going on.

"No, Harlie," he said, reaching out to touch my arm. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Is it because I did something stupid like driving Evan's truck thru water?"

"No," Eddie said again. "That could happen to anybody."

"Then what did I do wrong?" I asked, knowing I sounded pathetic.

"You didn't do anything wrong," Eddie said, looking sad.

"Then what changed your mind?" I asked, really low.

Eddie looked uncomfortable. "I just got to thinking about it, and after talking to Evan and Ford, well-"

Instantly my hackles went up. "What are you talking about? What did Evan and Ford say to you?"

"Well, it was mostly Evan, but Ford feels the same way about it-"

"What did they say?!" I demanded.

"They just think there's too much age difference between us. And I talked to Mike, and he agrees, too."

So now I was the topic of the town!

"Oh, really?" I said, my voice raising. "Well, why stop there? Why not ask some more people's advice? How

about Mr. Perkins at the post office? Or the guys in the bar? Maybe they'll have an opinion, too!"

Eddie seemed to understand that he was treading on thin ice. "Now, it's not like that. Don't get your feathers all ruffled up."

What was I now? Besides being an infant, I was also a bird?

"Evan and Ford shouldn't have said anything to you! They should have stayed out of it!" I was so mad I wished

I could smack both of them. And believe me, that's saying something. I've often wanted to whack Evan, but never in my

life could I remember ever having the desire to smack Ford.

"No. I see where they're coming from on this. I don't have any sisters, so I just never thought about it from

their point of view before. But I understand now."

I was fuming. "Well, how nice for you," I said, angrily. "I'm so glad that all of you reached an understanding. I'll see you

around." I turned to walk away, my eyes filling with tears.

"Harlie. Wait a minute," Eddie said, reaching for my hand.

I jerked my hand away, but stood where I was. "What?!" I demanded, keeping my head turned so he

couldn't see my tears.

"Maybe in a year or so, we might try again," he said softly.

"Don't patronize me," I said stiffly.

"I'm not. Oh, Harlie," he said, seeing my face. "Don't cry. Please."

I swiped at my cheek. "Don't worry, Eddie," I said, raising my chin. "I'm done crying. Now, excuse me, because

I have a party to go to."

7777777


	9. Testing, 1, 2, 3

I found my way to Lori, hiding my shimmering eyes from the other kids, and we climbed into her car, where

I spilled my tale of woe about Eddie.

"That's awful," she said, with sympathy.

"It's bad enough about Eddie," I sniffed. "I really liked him. But what makes it worse is that he never would have

changed his mind if it wasn't for Evan and Ford!"

Lori nodded in agreement.

"Evan's one thing," I continued to rant. "I expect this crap from him. But Ford! It's not like him to do something like

this! He never butts in, or interferes!"

"Maybe he was just going along with it because of Evan," Lori suggested, taking a long drink of her shake.

"No," I denied. "If he didn't agree with it, he would have just stayed quiet. It's his fault, too. Maybe not as much as

Evan, but it still is!"

"Maybe I should be glad I just have Brent to deal with," Lori offered. "He's really horrible, and he doesn't like me. But he'd

never notice who I went out with, or even care. I can't even remember the last time we did anything fun together."

A voice at the back of my mind put forth the thought that I didn't want brothers like Brent, who were really mean, and

didn't give a hoot about me, or who didn't want to spend time with me.

But I pushed that thought away. Certain brothers needed to be taught a lesson about sticking their noses into

my business!

"I'm not going to be home by eleven," I said impulsively.

"You're not? How come?" Lori asked.

"Because I'm not going to the movies, that's why! I'm going to that party at Hell's Bend!"

Lori got wide-eyed at my defiant tone. "You are?" she asked.

"Yes, I am! I'm tired of being Miss Goody Goody. They ruined my chance with Eddie, so they can just shove it! I don't care

if they sit home and worry about me!"

Lori considered. "My dad's not home tonight," she said thoughtfully. "I'll go with you. We'll do it!"

"Okay!" I said, glad she was in on it with me.

"Should we drive your mom's car out there?" I asked. "Or maybe we should park it here, and catch a ride out with

somebody else?"

Lori considered that. "No, let's drive ourselves. That way, we can leave if we want to. You know, if something makes us

uncomfortable or anything like that. Right?"

"Good idea," I agreed. I blew my nose on one of the tissues from the glove compartment. "I'm not going to do anything

stupid," I assured Lori. "We'll go to the party, and I'll breeze in home around one this morning, and when they start in on me,

I'll tell them just what I think of them!"

"I think I can get around my mom okay," Lori said. "But what about if Evan tells Adam you stayed out that late?"

I felt a moment of unease. I thought that over.

"I'll make him feel bad for what he did with Eddie," I said finally, defiantly. "Then he won't say anything." I thought another

couple of minutes. That probably wouldn't work.

"I'll just let them get good and worried about where I am, and then I'll tell them we had a flat tire or something like that,"

I decided.

"No, say we ran out of gas," Lori said. "My mom would want to take the flat to Jake's garage to be fixed."

"Good idea," I said. "Let's go!"

We were pulling out of the Dari Kurl parking lot when I saw Guthrie's truck approaching from the opposite direction.

Guthrie was waving out his open window, in an obvious gesture for us to stop.

"I think Guthrie wants to talk to us," Lori said, looking at me. "What do you want me to do?"

"Go ahead and stop," I told her. "He'll know something is up if I don't talk to him."

"Okay," Lori said, and pulled to a stop.

Guthrie pulled alongside of us.

"Hey," he said, and Kristin leaned across to wave at us.

"Hi," I said, and Lori gave a wave back.

"Are you headin' to the movies?" Guthrie asked.

I didn't say anything, and Lori said, "We're talking about it."

I was leaning back in the car seat so that Guthrie wouldn't see my face. He can always tell when I've been crying.

"Har, you okay?" Guthrie asked, leaning out a little to try to see me around Lori.

"Yeah. I'm fine." I gave Lori a poke on the leg to prod her to go. "See you guys later."

But our escape was not to be. "Wait," Guthrie said. "I wanna talk to you a minute. I'll pull over."

I groaned as Guthrie pulled forward, to the end of the parking lot where there were less cars.

"What are you going to tell him?" Lori asked.

"I can handle Guthrie," I said, and got out to meet Guthrie halfway. He was walking with Kristin, holding her hand.

Kristin gave me a side hug. "Guthrie told me what happened today with Evan's truck. It sounds like it's been an awful day!"

"Yeah. I've had better," I said.

Kristin looked at me, and then at Guthrie. "I'll go talk to Lori," she said, and left Guthrie and I alone.

"Somethin's wrong," Guthrie said, without preamble. "What is it?"

I gave Guthrie an eye roll type of answer to throw him off the track. "Well, let's see, Guth, what could

possibly be wrong? I went for an unplanned swim in Sugar Creek, I totaled out Evan's truck, I saw you almost

get drowned, and tomorrow everybody's going to get home and find out about it all. What makes you think

anything is wrong?"

"Knock it off," Guthrie ordered, obviously not impressed with my sarcasm.

"You've been cryin'," he accused me then.

"You saw me crying, remember? At the creek?"

"This is new cryin'. You didn't look like this when you left the house."

"So what? I'm entitled to cry after this sucky day," I defended.

Guthrie gave me a once-over with the experienced eye of a brother who has seen a sister thru many situations,

and many moods.

"Don't worry about Evan," he advised. "He's not that mad."

"I don't care if he is," I said definitely.

"Yeah?" he asked, looking puzzled.

"Yeah."

"You do care," Guthrie argued.

"No," I said angrily. "He needs to shut his mouth. Ford, too."

Now Guthrie really looked confused. "What are you talkin' about? Why are you mad at Ford?"

"Because," I said. Then in a torrent of feelings, I let go. "They told Eddie not to go out with me!"

Guthrie didn't have the shocked expression I would have expected, and with a hurtful jolt, I had a new and

unwelcome thought.

"You knew about it!" I accused. "Guthrie-so help me, if you knew and you didn't tell me-"

"Don't get your bloomers in a bunch," he said. "I didn't know about it. They must have talked to him when he brought Evan home

today."

"You don't look surprised, though."

"Well, I'm not surprised. I knew how Evan felt about it-"

"I don't care! He still shouldn't have said anything!"

"Well," Guthrie allowed. "Maybe not. But he did. So you're just gonna have to deal with it."

I frowned at Guthrie. Then I shrugged, attempting nonchalance. "Okay. I will."

"What does that mean?" Guthrie asked suspiciously.

I hesitated, wondering whether to tell Guthrie the truth or not. If I wasn't honest, and then he didn't see

me at the movies, he'd root the truth out of me anyway, and then he'd be mad at me. One of the worst things in the

world to me, is having Guthrie be mad at me.

I lifted my chin, and met his eye. "Lori and I are going to a party. Not the movies."

Guthrie looked stunned. And disapproving. "When did you decide this?" he asked.

"Just awhile ago."

"After you found out what Evan had done, right?" Guthrie determined.

"Maybe," I said, with a shrug.

"Not maybe. Definitely."

I lifted my shoulders again.

"Har, just go to the movies. Please," Guthrie entreated.

"Why can't I go to a party?"

"You can. You can do whatever you want. But it's dumb. Especially doin' it just because you're mad at Evan."

"And Ford. I'm mad at him, too."

Guthrie rolled his eyes and heaved a heavy sigh.

"Just go to the movies with Kristin, and have a good time," I said. "I'll see you later at home."

"Don't do anything stupid," Guthrie said. "At least, no more stupid than what you're doin' already," he amended.

"That's a real nice thing to say, Guth. Thanks," I said sarcastically.

"Just tellin' it like it is," Guthrie returned.

Even though Guthrie was looking at me sort of fiercely, and acting all gruff, he was popping his knuckles, and that's a sure

sign that he's nervous, or worried about something.

"I'll go to the party for awhile, and then I'll come home," I said. "Don't worry." I patted his arm.

"Okay," Guthrie sighed, but he didn't look happy.

7

Since Lori and I are a lot alike, at least in the fact that her dad is pretty strict, just like Adam, and that we are both good

students that don't get into much trouble, we therefore approached the party with similar outlooks. Which was excitement, yet tempered

with nervous anticipation, and worry. The road was so packed with cars that we had to park a long way from the crowd, and then follow the noise of all

the people, and the smell of smoke from a bonfire.

As soon as we approached the crowd, I started recognizing people, some from school, mostly seniors. There were even some older

kids there, well not really kids, but people who had been out of school a year or two, older than Ford. Looking around I only saw a few kids

from our class at school, including Chelsea, who was wrapped in the arms of a burly looking guy that I didn't know.

She squealed with she saw us, and pulled her guy along to come over to say hello to us.

"You made it!" she exclaimed. She introduced the guy she was with, telling us his name was Joe. When he turned to talk to

someone passing by, Lori and I asked her where she'd met him.

"I met him here, tonight," Chelsea giggled. It was obvious that she was well on her way to being tight. "There's a lot of cute guys here!

A bunch of people came from other towns."

I had no plans to take up with somebody I didn't know. I just wanted to mingle, and have some fun, and discover what all the

hullabaloo was about. So that's what I did. Or started out doing.

We'd been just walking around for about an hour, Lori and I, talking to different people. I was starting to have fun, and was involved in

conversation with some of the older kids from school. I'd been urged several times to have a beer, and I took one, but I mostly held

it, only sipping it occasionally, thinking that I wouldn't drink it all.

Country music was blaring from a boom box that somebody had brought, and some kids were roasting

marshmallows on the bonfire.

Several guys we didn't know talked to Lori and I, and asked for our phone numbers, but we just smiled, and shook our heads.

"They'll think we're all mysterious," Lori whispered to me, and we collapsed into giggles. I don't know why, because it wasn't even

that funny. Somehow, I found that without realizing it, I'd finished my beer after all.

It was about that time that I saw Eddie, standing on the edge of a group of guys. He was listening to the others talk, but

he was watching me. I tossed my head, and looked away, and took another beer, offered from the boy who was standing beside me.

Riley, his name was. Riley something.

"So, Harlie, huh?" Riley asked, giving me a smile. "I never heard of a girl named that before."

I've heard that all my life, so I just nodded. "No, there's not too many of us," I agreed.

"Well, I like it," Riley continued. "It's real cute."

Riley leaned down close to my ear, so I could hear over the noise. "Wanna take a walk?"

I looked up at him, knowing what my answer needed to be. "Not right now," I said, smiling at him in what

I hoped was an intriguing way. I still wanted him to talk to me.

Everything started being really funny after that. The more I talked to Riley, the cuter he seemed. Lori, likewise, was

seemingly enthralled with one of Riley's friends. I was aware enough to realize that everything seemed humorous because

I'd finished one beer and was working on another. The freedom I felt at knowing there was no Adam or Hannah, Brian or Crane, at

home to smell the beer on me, or come uncorked over my behavior, made me feel light and loose. I giggled again.

"You're sure a happy girl," Riley said, looking amused.

I was laughing up at him, when I felt a hand on my elbow. I turned to find myself looking up at Eddie.

"Can I talk to you a minute, Harlie?" he asked.

"I thought you already did that," I said sarcastically. "Did you leave something out when you talked to me before?"

"Now, Harlie, don't be like that," Eddie said.

"What's goin' on?" Riley objected, his words slurring a little.

"Nothing at all," Eddie said smoothly. "I'm just going to talk to your girl for a minute."

And without giving either Riley or I a chance to react, Eddie took my arm and pulled me off to the side, away from the crowd,

where it was quieter.

I pulled my arm from his. "What do you want?" I demanded.

"Do you even know that guy you're talking to?"

"Sure, I know him. His name is Riley."

"Riley who?"

I shrugged. "Why do you care?"

"Harlie, you're a good kid-" he began.

"Exactly. I'm a kid. At least according to you. And Evan. And Ford. And all the rest of my family, too," I said bitterly.

"How about I give you a ride home?" Eddie offered.

"No, thank you," I said haughtily. "Besides," I said, shaking my finger in his face. "That's a big no-no, isn't it? Evan might

beat you up if you did that."

"Evan and Ford are just looking out for you," Eddie said. "You're lucky to have them. And you're just being dumb right now. You're

going to get yourself in trouble."

"You're pretty good at that lecturing stuff," I told him. "But I don't need any more big brothers. Thanks just the same."

I turned to go, and it would have been a perfect parting shot, except that Eddie moved to stand in front of me.

He didn't say anything, he just stood there, and when I moved to go around him, he blocked me again. After a couple times of

that nonsense, I glared at him. "What are you doing?!" I said, almost yelling.

"Please, Harlie? Let me take you home."

His voice was so low and his face, lit up by the bonfire, was so handsome, that I was almost pulled in. I caught myself with a jerk.

"No. Now leave me alone! I have somebody to talk to who doesn't think I'm too young!"

Eddie looked angry now. "I'm telling you-"

"And I'm telling you!" I said, poking him in the chest. "I don't answer to you!"

"Maybe you don't," Eddie agreed. "But I'll bet you'd take a different tone if your brothers were here. You'd answer to them, alright."

I felt a chill pass over me, almost a premonition of some sort. But I dismissed it with a sweep of my hand around the rowdy crowd.

"I don't see any of them here, Eddie. Do you?"

Eddie looked disgusted. "Maybe you really are too young. You're sure acting immature right now."

That remark cut me to the quick. But I did my best to hide it under more smart comments.

"That's fine," I said. "It doesn't matter, because we're nothing. We're not even friends!"

I don't think I imagined the hurt on Eddie's face. "Sure, we're friends," he said.

"No," I said stubbornly. And with that, I turned and walked back to Lori and the boy she was talking to. And to Riley.

I don't know for sure how much time passed. Eventually, Lori and I found ourselves sitting by the edge of the fire, with Riley and the

other boy, whose name I couldn't seem to recall. I was vaguely aware of Eddie, standing on the fringes, and I think he was

still watching me. Keeping an eye on me, more than likely, I thought, with resentment.

"Try this," Riley said, pushing a bottle into my hands.

I peered at it in the firelight. "What is it?"

"It's a wine cooler. Try it."

I took a sip. It was sweet. I'd never tasted anything like it before. I drank a little more. I took off my boots, and then my socks,

sinking my toes into the grass. Riley grinned in approval.

"Boots and socks off now," he said, with a smile that was more of a leer. "Later, maybe somethin' else off, huh?"

Well, I knew that wasn't good. But in response I just said, "Ha!"

That's when things got more lively. And more out of hand.

First, Trent showed up, with a couple of Guthrie's other friends. Lori and Trent had been broken up for about two weeks, and

I knew that had a lot to do with her coming to the party tonight. When Trent stood in front of her, holding out his hand to Lori to help

her up, and asking her to come talk to him, she took his hand, and went with him without a word of protest. The boy she'd been talking to

objected, but not too strongly. I think he was too drunk to really care.

Then, on the other side of me, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nancy. Evan's Nancy. She was standing with a group of

girls, just talking, and when she saw me she got a surprised look on her face.

Without any hesitation, she came right over to me.

"Hi, Harlie," she greeted me.

"Hi."

"Um, is Evan here, too?" she asked me, looking around.

"Nope."

"Oh, because he said he was staying home tonight-" Nancy broke off to give me a closer look. "Are you alright, Harlie?"

I didn't feel all that good right at that moment, but I said, "I'm okay."

Nancy reached down and took hold of my hand. "Come on with me for a minute," she said, pulling me up.

"Hey," Riley protested. "Where you goin'?"

Nancy pulled me away, to the field away from other people, and surveyed me intently. I didn't miss the fact that she was

holding a bottle of Coke, not beer.

"Are you by yourself?" she asked me. "Or is Guthrie here?"

"I came with Lori," I told her.

"Have you been drinking?" she asked, sounding shocked.

"Just a little."

"Well, Evan said he was staying home tonight, so he could hang out with you and Ford. Eat pizza, and play Monopoly, so I'm just

surprised to see you here-"

"What did he say?" I asked, thinking I'd misheard.

"He said you were going to order pizza, and hang out-"

"He said he was going to play Monopoly?" I asked, and Nancy gave me a puzzled look.

"Yeah. That's what he said."

"That must have been before I got creek water in his manifold," I muttered.

"What?" Nancy asked. "Harlie, are you alright?"

"I feel a little sick," I admitted.

"Here," she told me, "Come over to my car. I've got some Sprite."

I was towed along to her red car, out in the field. She opened a can of Sprite and handed it to me. I took a couple of sips, but it

didn't seem to help my rolling stomach.

"How much have you had to drink?" she asked me.

I started to answer, but then remembered who I was talking to. This was all sure to be reported to Evan.

"Not that much," I said.

"Uh huh," Nancy said, sounding disbelieving.

"I totaled Evan's truck today," I said, as if I was discussing the weather.

"I know. He told me."

"He did? What did he say?" I asked.

"He just said you tried to cross the creek, and didn't make it. He said you were feeling pretty badly

about it. He told me it was alright if I came here tonight without him, because he thought maybe if he stayed home and

hung out with you, you might feel better."

I stared at Nancy, feeling as if I wasn't hearing right. Her voice sounded all fuzzy.

"He said that? About playing Monopoly? After I'd put the truck in the creek?"

Nancy peered into my face. "Are you okay?" she asked, again. "You keep asking about Monopoly."

I shook my head to clear it. "You don't understand," I told her. "He never plays that game. No matter how

much I beg him to. He hates to play Monopoly."

Nancy still looked confused. She didn't get what I was talking about. And I was too tired, suddenly, to explain the

significance to her.

"Riley's probably wondering where I am," I said, realizing I didn't really care.

Nancy gave me a look. "Let him wonder," she said, sounding definite. "You haven't crossed a line yet, but if you go

back over there with him, then you might."

She sounded bossy, and I would have objected, but I thought better of it. She was being nice to me,

and I felt a sudden thankfulness to her.

"Okay," I said. I still felt kind of sick, and I looked at her. "Can I sit with you for awhile? Lori went off somewhere with Trent-"

"Sure," Nancy said. "Evan would want me to look out for you."

"Everybody looks out for me," I said, in a dejected sort of way, and Nancy frowned at me.

"Well, what's wrong with that?" Nancy demanded. "That's just nice."

"Sometimes it gets tiresome," I said, and Nancy frowned again.

"Oh, boo hoo," she said, with a wave of her hand at me. "Just take it, and be glad for it. Quit being a pill about it."

I gave Nancy a longer look, as she sipped at her Coke. I'm used to Hannah, so much older that she's a combination mom/big sister,

and now Clare, who started as friend and has gradually become more big sisterish. But they are both pretty gentle about their advice

to me. I realized that a sister closer to my age, like Nancy, might be a lot more 'in my face' with her advice. Less sugar coating. Rougher. I

wasn't sure I would like that.

"How old are you?" I asked her.

"Twenty-one."

"Do you love Evan?" I blurted out, without finesse.

Nancy gave me an eye to eye look. I thought she might tell me it wasn't my business. But, to her credit, she didn't.

"Yeah," she said. "I think I do."

"Oh," I said, quietly. "Well, that's good."

7777777


	10. Boot MIA

I was still sitting on the ground beside Nancy's car, and still feeling like I was going to be sick. Nancy had gone somewhere,

telling me she would be right back, and then adding a comment about me 'staying where I was'.

I heard grass crackling as someone walked up to me.

"There you are," said a voice, and a body sat down next to me, right smack dab against my side. Riley.

"I've been lookin' for you," he said, and slung an arm around my shoulders.

He shoved a wine cooler at me. "Here."

I shook my head. "I don't want it. I'm not feeling very good."

"Aw, come on," he said, insistently. "It'll make you feel better."

"No. Stop it," I said, trying to extract myself from his arms.

"You were just startin' to loosen up, and then that other girl had to drag you off, and bust up the fun," he said, tugging me closer.

I stuck my elbow in his side. "I said I don't feel good! Back off."

Maybe because I did feel sick, or maybe because my brain was fuzzy, but Riley caught me off guard, and as he grabbed

a tighter hold to me, we tumbled over to the ground, bumping my head.

I started to struggle then, but it seemed as if he had suddenly grown more than two arms. He was a very strong boy, and

I knew I was no match for him physically. I started yelling, and then when he started trying to unbutton my yellow lace shirt, I

sunk my teeth in his shoulder.

"Hey!" he yelled, and loosened his hold a little. I rolled away and started to get up, but he recovered and caught at my

arm, pulling me to my knees again. I was still struggling to get to my feet, hollering at him to stop, when, suddenly, he wasn't there.

I twisted around to look behind me, in time to see Guthrie land a punch in his stomach, and then, when Riley bent over, clutching at

his stomach, Guthrie gave him another punch in the jaw, and Riley went to the ground.

"Damn, man, what's your problem?!" Riley hollered up at Guthrie.

"My problem is, that's my sister," Guthrie said. "And she told you to stop."

I scrambled to my feet, and stood behind Guthrie, breathing hard from my tussle with

Riley, and hooking my fingers thru the back of Guthrie's belt loops.

Riley sat up. "Your sister, huh?"

"Yeah. My sister," Guthrie said, and I could hear the warning in his voice.

Apparently, Riley heard the warning, too, because he got to his feet, a little unsteadily, but he still managed.

"No little bitch is worth fightin' over," he said sullenly.

I felt Guthrie tense up, and, as he would have gone after Riley again, I reached for his hand, which was doubled into a fist.

"No, Guth, don't!" I implored.

"He's not gonna call you a bitch," Guthrie said fiercely.

"It doesn't matter!" I insisted, pulling on his arm. "Please, Guthrie!"

Guthrie looked at me, and I tugged at him again. "Please," I said again, softer this time.

"Alright," he said, and Riley, with a last look at Guthrie and I, made his escape, back towards the bonfire and his friends.

Guthrie turned to me. It was too dark for me to see every feature on his face, but I saw enough there to feel something

I'd never felt with him before. I felt embarrassed. And, worse than that, I felt ashamed. Maybe it wasn't so much what I could make

out in his face, but what I felt radiating from him. Guthrie and I know each other so well, that I knew what he was thinking. What he was

feeling. He was mad.

"Thank you," I said, really low.

"Thank Nancy," he said, sounding curt. "She's the one that told me where you were at. There's so many people here I wouldn't

have found you as quick, without her." He added, accusingly, "And what would have happened if I hadn't found you when I did? Could you

have fought him off?"

There were so many things I wanted to say to him, but he said abruptly, "Are you ready to go home now? Or do you want to stay

for some more of that fun you were havin'?"

Sarcasm from Guthrie is something uncommon, especially directed at me. I winced a little at his biting tone.

"I'm ready to go home," I said.

"Let's go, then," he said, and turned to stalk off.

I scurried to catch up with his long legs. "I have to find Lori first," I told him.

"Okay," he said. "But we'll look together. I'm not leavin' you alone here."

We were walking together, and I was slightly behind Guthrie, when I saw yet another familiar person heading our way. This one was blond.

"Oh, no!" I said, and Guthrie followed my gaze.

"What's Ford doing here?!" I asked. "Guthrie, did you tell-"

"Of course not," Guthrie interrupted me, irritated. "I came here as soon as I dropped Kristin off."

"Well, how did he know?" I continued. I clutched at the back of Guthrie's shirt in worry. "What if Evan's here, too?!"

Guthrie gave me a discerning look. "I thought you didn't give a damn what Evan thinks," he reminded me.

"He'll be so mad," I continued worrying, ignoring Guthrie's jibe.

I pulled at Guthrie's shirt harder. "I don't want Ford to see me!"

"Stop pullin' on me," Guthrie objected.

I had a fleeting moment of hope as Ford stood still, searching over the crowd. He hadn't seen us.

My hope was just as quickly dashed as Ford's eyes landed on us.

"Spotted," Guthrie volunteered. Unnecessarily, I thought.

Some of the worry that had been present on Ford's face dissipated at the sight of Guthrie. He moved quickly over to us.

"I didn't know you were here, Guth," he said, sounding relieved. "We thought Harlie was alone-"

"She was," Guthrie affirmed, selling me down the river. "I just got here. I got to worryin' about her, and came up here after I took Kristin home."

By revealing that, I surmised that Guthrie was really, really mad at me.

Ford turned to me, his expression unreadable. "You came up here alone?" he demanded.

"No." I hesitated. "I came with Lori."

"That's not what I meant and you know it," Ford snapped, sounding very un-Ford like. He leaned in close to me.

"You smell like a brewery," he accused.

I didn't think I smelled that much like alcohol, but I stepped back a little, and didn't contradict him.

"What's gotten into you?" Ford asked then. "Lying, and worryin' us like this?"

Before I could answer, Ford shook his head. "Let's just get home," he said, and walked away. Guthrie followed, and

therefore, so did I. I was walking so slowly that Guthrie turned back to order me to hurry up.

"I stepped on something," I told him, and Guthrie stopped walking and peered down at my feet.

"Where's your boots?" he demanded.

"Over by the fire somewhere," I told him, in a small voice.

"Har, for cripes sake-" Guthrie began.

"I know. I know," I said. "Just add it to the list of my crimes."

Ford came back to us. "What now?" he asked.

"She left her boots over there somewhere," Guthrie answered for me, gesturing towards the general area of the bonfire.

Ford looked at my feet as if he thought Guthrie was lying, or teasing, or just generally yanking his chain.

"I'll go get 'em." Guthrie said, and headed that direction.

Which left Ford and I, standing there alone.

Ford didn't say anything. He just looked at me, a look kind of a cross between sorrowful, and generally pissed off.

"Say something," I told him.

"Well, what do you want me to say?"

"I don't know." I thought a minute. "How did you know I was here?"

"Eddie called."

"He has a big nerve!" I said, getting huffy.

"He was worried about you," Ford said reasonably. "He was thinking you might get yourself into a situation

you couldn't handle on your own."

And that's exactly what had happened. But, as yet, Ford didn't know about Guthrie having to extract me from Riley's

clutches. I wanted to keep it that way as long as possible.

"He still shouldn't have called," I said stubbornly, but I said it quietly.

Then I saw Evan, charging our direction, followed by Nancy.

His expression was furious. He looked like, as the old saying goes, he could chew nails.

I stepped behind Ford a little, instinctively, even though I knew rationally, that Evan wouldn't get too rough in front of

so many other people.

"We've been worried out of our skulls about you!" Evan said.

He grabbed at my arm, and pulled me from behind Ford, giving me a hard shake.

I gritted my teeth to keep from saying 'ouch' or anything else. It hurt.

"You're in big trouble, young lady," he said, grittily.

"I can tell," I muttered, and he shook me again.

"Don't be a smart mouth," he said.

Even though there were lots of kids around us, acting the kind of stupid that comes with being drunk, there were still some

of them watching us with varying degrees of curiousity, sensing there might be something interesting to observe.

"Let's take this talk home, Ev," Ford said, and Evan took a deep breath, and reined his temper in.

"Yeah," he said. "Come on."

"We've gotta wait for Guthrie," Ford said.

"Guthrie's here, too?" Evan said, sounding exasperated.

"Just for the last few minutes, I guess," Ford said. "He was worried about Har."

"He can get in line on that," Evan said darkly, his hand still on my arm. "Where is he?"

"Retrieving our little sister's boots," Ford said.

"Oh, my gosh," Evan muttered, and stomped away in apparent disgust.

I stood there with Ford and Nancy, feeling awkward, and embarrassed. And sick. Very sick.

"Ford," I managed to say, before I clamped a hand over my mouth.

"Come on," Nancy said, and pulled me away from everyone, out into the field. She held my hair back as I

vomited, over and over, until my ribs hurt from it.

Finally, I was done, and I sank to my knees, feeling weak.

"You'll start to feel better now," Nancy said. "I wish I had some water for you."

"It's okay," I managed.

I hadn't known Ford was standing behind us, until Nancy spoke to him. "Ford, do you have any water in your truck?"

"Yeah, I think there's a thermos in there," I heard Ford answer.

"Could you bring Harlie a drink?"

I could Ford say okay, and then I was left alone with Nancy.

"Sometime you'll look back on this night and laugh," Nancy said.

I shook my head. "I don't think so."

"You will. It may not be for a long time. But you will." She pulled me up, and led me over to a nearby truck. I didn't know

whose truck it was, but she lowered the tailgate. "Sit down," she told me.

When I had, she sat down beside me.

"I only came tonight because I was mad at Evan and Ford," I said, without thinking.

"I've found that it's not usually a good idea to do something you wouldn't typically do, just because you're mad. It

usually comes back to bite you in the behind," Nancy shared.

"I don't think Evan will talk to me," I said.

"Oh, of course he will," she said. "He's been to a party a time or two in his life."

"I lied, though. My brothers don't like lies. And I could tell the way he was looking at me. Like he was so mad he wished

I would disappear, or something." All my earlier bravado talk with Lori seemed childish now. I did care what my brothers thought.

I did feel bad that they'd been worried about where I was.

"Harlie, what do you think of Evan?" Nancy asked, looking at me. "I mean, what do you really really think of him?"

I hesitated. "Well-"

"Let me tell you what he thinks of you," Nancy interrupted. "He's so proud of you that he could bust sometimes. He's always

talking about you. He just plain adores you, that's all."

I swallowed past the lump in my throat, not answering because Ford was there, handing me the thermos. I took a long drink.

The water was so cold. I don't think I've ever appreciated water that much before.

"Feelin' better?" he asked me.

I nodded, and saw that Evan was standing there, too, just behind him. Nancy hopped down from the tailgate and went

to stand beside Evan, clasping her fingers thru his.

Guthrie came thru the crowd, onto the fringes where we were gathered, one boot in his hand.

"I could only find one," he said, laying it on the tailgate beside me. "I looked all over, too. Some clown must have taken it."

"Why would anybody take just one boot?" Nancy said, shaking her head.

"I have to find the other one," I said, sliding off of the tailgate. As I would have went toward the bonfire area, Evan

caught my arm. "No, you don't," he said. "We're goin' home."

My emotions got the better of me, then. I didn't worry right then about being embarrassed. Or about being tough. Or

being right. Or about how Evan had warned Eddie away from me. I only knew I had to make him understand about those

boots.

"I have to find it, though! Those are the boots Brian bought me before the wedding! They're special! "

Evan looked unsympathetic. "Well, that's too bad," he said. "Guthrie looked. He couldn't find it. We're not gonna

stay around here all night lookin' for a boot."

I clutched at his arm, begging now. "I can't replace those boots! Please let me look, just for a few minutes, Evan, please!"

"Harlie, it's after one o'clock in the morning. It's been a hell of a day. We're goin' home," Evan said firmly.

I felt like crying. "But I have to find it! I have to!"

"I'll look around for it," Nancy offered, and though I was grateful to her, I still didn't want to leave without my missing boot.

"Thanks, babe," Evan told her, and they exchanged a quick kiss.

"And I'll find Lori and tell her you left," she told me.

"I'll leave no stone unturned, in the search for the missing boot," Nancy said, humorously, and even though I was

near tears, I also had the desire to giggle at her. Good grief, my emotions were all over the place.

I was still protesting about that boot, as Evan pulled me along the road towards Ford's truck, flanked by Ford, with Guthrie bringing up the rear. I stepped

on something, a rock, I think, and winced, pulling back on Evan so I could rub my foot.

"What's wrong now?" he demanded irritably.

"I stepped on something sharp," I told him, trying to stand on one foot so I could rub at the other one. "And my feet are cold."

"Well, what do you expect?" Evan said, without sympathy.

"Is it bleeding, or anything?" Ford asked.

"I don't think so," I said. "But thank you for caring," I told Ford, with significance.

"Meanin' that I don't care, huh?" Evan asked, in tune with my sarcasm.

I just rubbed my foot, and peered at him in the darkness, lit only by Guthrie's flashlight, and car lights as someone else approached

the party. "You're walking too fast," I muttered.

"Okay, fine," Evan said, and before I could react, he put an arm under my knees and picked me up. Then, carrying me, he started

walking again.

"This is stupid," I complained.

"I agree with that," Evan said darkly.

"I meant you carrying me is stupid. If you'd just walk slower-"

"I'd like to get to bed before two o'clock in the morning," Evan complained. "So if I have to carry ya, then I will."

As he walked, Evan started lecturing me.

"I don't know what you're thinkin', comin' up here. And sayin' you were goin' to the movies!"

"I was going to the movies. Then-" I hesitated.

"Then what? You decided to lie?"

"No," I said. "Not exactly."

"It doesn't matter, anyway," Evan said.

My temper came to the surface. "Oh, it doesn't matter that you told Eddie to steer clear?" I demanded with attitude.

Ford and Evan exchanged glances, and then Evan set me down. We were beside Ford's truck.

"Well?" I asked them both.

"That's not what we're going to talk about right now," Ford said.

Guthrie handed me my boot that he'd been carrying. "My truck's on down a ways," he said. "I'll see you

at home."

"Okay," Ford answered.

"I'm riding with Guthrie," I said.

"You can ride with Ford and me," Evan said.

"Just so you can yell at me all the way home?" I asked, mutinously.

"You better hope yellin' is the only thing that I do," Evan said, raising his voice.

I suddenly felt a chill go thru me. I looked at him in trepidation.

"Oh, go on and ride with Guthrie if you want," Evan said then, sounding as if he was at the end of his patience.

Even though I was still hurt about Eddie, and mad at them for saying anything to him, I decided maybe I should

try to fix things with Evan. Try to extract myself from the jaws of his temper.

"Okay, come on, Har," Guthrie prompted me.

"I'll go with Evan," I said quietly.

Even though I couldn't see, I knew Guthrie was more than likely rolling his eyes, at my indecision. "Okay, whatever," he said. "Let's

just get home."

I climbed into Ford's truck, sliding to the middle. Ford and Evan had a low conversation, and then Evan came around

to get behind the wheel. I looked out the door at Ford.

"Aren't you coming?" I asked Ford, not sure that being alone with Evan was the best idea for my safety.

"I'll ride with Guthrie. Give you and Evan a chance to talk," Ford said, and walked away with Guthrie before I could

protest.

I slid back over to the passenger side, pressing against the door.

With so many cars parked, Evan had to drive a little ways, and then turn around in a field, to go back the way we'd came.

It was silent in the truck cab, and I waited until we were on the main road before looking at Evan's profile, thinking

that he would say something. But he didn't. He just drove, one hand on the steering wheel, and the other arm trailing out the

window, in the night breeze.

I knew I should accept the silence and be grateful for it. But, after so long of it, I couldn't stand it anymore.

"When are you going to start yelling?" I asked.

"So you want me to yell at ya, huh?"

"No. I don't. But I'd rather have that than the silent treatment," I said, with certainty.

Evan shook his head, probably in disgust, but he didn't say anything. Again. Quiet. After a few minutes, as we passed

thru Murphys, I said quietly, "Eddie told me he won't go out with me."

When Evan didn't answer, I burst out with, "Why did you do that, Ev? It really hurt me."

"I was tryin' to save you from hurt, not cause it," he returned.

"Why are you so sure he would have done something to hurt me?" I asked.

"I'm not sure that he would. I just think it was the right thing to do."

And, because I knew that he genuinely meant that, and that he hadn't done it with a mean purpose, I sighed, and said, in dejection,

" It doesn't matter now, anyway, because he wouldn't want to date me anymore."

I could see Evan turn to look at me in the dark cab. He didn't say anything, but I assumed he was curious by what I meant.

"I yelled at him, and then I acted really dumb with that Riley kid. I don't think Eddie was impressed," I explained.

"What Riley kid?" Evan demanded.

"Just a boy that was there tonight. It doesn't matter. I learned my lesson about that, too."

"Did somethin' happen?" Evan asked, sounding panicky.

"No. Well, he tried. You know. The typical guy stuff."

After a couple of minutes, Evan spoke up. "I get worried about you sometimes, Harlie." He hesitated, as if gathering his thoughts.

"You're a real pretty girl. Guys are goin' to always be after you."

Before I could answer, he continued, "You're kind of quick on the draw. Impulsive. I just don't want you to get yourself into

a situation that goes south, and causes you any heartache. It scares me when you go off half-cocked and do stuff like you did tonight."

I thought over what he'd said, and I felt bad. I'd set out to worry him and Ford, and I'd accomplished it, alright. But I felt no victory.

All I'd done was hurt them, and make myself look immature in both his and Ford's eyes. And in Eddie's. Not to mention

getting mauled by Riley. And losing one of my precious boots.

"Are you going to tell Adam about tonight?" I asked. "Or Brian?" I literally felt shaky just thinking about it. Gone was the brave girl from

earlier, the one spouting off at the Dari Kurl about doing what she pleased, and to heck with what anybody else thought.

Evan was quiet for so long that I prompted him, nervously, "Ev? Are you?"

"I don't know. I should tell him, for sure. You ought to have your butt kicked."

I winced at his words. "You went to parties when you were my age, didn't you?" I asked.

"Yeah. But I didn't lie about it. And I was usually with Daniel, so we could look out for each other. And, anyway, it's different

for girls. You can say it's chauvinistic. But it's true. Girls have to be more careful." He sighed and then said, " And you drank a lot, too. Is

that bad for your diabetes?"

"I don't know," I admitted.

"Well, that's somethin' that you should know. You just really screwed up."

"I know I did." I sighed and then said, in a meek voice, "You could do it."

"Do what?"

"You could give me a punishment."

"I don't know about that," Evan said, sounding incredulous.

"You can lecture and yell almost as good as they do," I said, trying for a little humor.

"Huh," Evan said.

He was quiet for a while. We were nearly home, and I spoke up again, softly, " Please, Ev. I don't

want them to know."

"I'll think about it," he said, turning into our driveway, and I relaxed a little.

"Can I ask you a question?" I asked him, as he parked, and the lights of Guthrie's truck drove up behind us.

"What?"

"You're pretty serious about Nancy, aren't you?"

Evan shot me a look, his face lit up by the porch lights that he and Ford had left on.

"Why are you askin' that?" he said.

I shrugged, and then, sensing that he wasn't going to volunteer any information, I said, "No reason, really. She's just, real nice, is all."

7777777


	11. Dirty dishes and mean spirits

We all four went into the house, and I think if we'd been on film as we did, we would have been quite a sight to watch.

I was exhausted, accompanied by a pounding headache. Therefore, I was dragging, and still carrying

my one found boot. Ford and Evan were both moving slowly, too, acting as if they were about to reach their limit of movement.

I felt bad, looking at them. It had been a hell of a day for them, too.

Guthrie was the only one of us who still had a spring in his step. He bounded up the front steps, opening the door, and

switching on lights.

There was a flashing light on the answering machine.

"Want me to check it?" Guthrie asked.

Evan shook his head. "Just hold off a few minutes."

He looked at me. "Go on and get ready for bed. We'll heat up some leftover spaghetti."

"Okay," I said.

I went upstairs, feeling as if each step was a mountain. I got into my favorite pajamas, the ones with the horses all over them. They're

faded, and worn, but they're really soft and I felt better when I was in them. I went to brush my teeth to get rid of the bad taste in my mouth from

throwing up.

As I went back downstairs, I could hear the answering machine replaying. Adam again.

"Guess you kids are out havin' fun. We'll be home somewhere around suppertime tomorrow."

The next message was from Crane. "Just checking in. See you all tomorrow."

A third message was from Mrs. Stevens. I stopped walking to listen to it.

"I'm concerned, since I haven't heard from anyone. Please call me back."

I remembered that she'd left a message earlier that afternoon asking for a return call, after I'd missed tutoring.

As I walked into the kitchen where the boys were, Ford looked up from his task of taking a bowl of warmed spaghetti from the

microwave. "Who was that last message from?" he asked me.

"Mrs. Stevens," I said, feeling guilty. "She's wondering why I wasn't here for tutoring today."

Evan looked over at me from where he was pouring milk into four glasses.

"Better call her back first thing in the morning, to explain." he told me.

I nodded.

"Crane's going to be real mad about me missing tutoring," I said. A statement which no one responded to.

"She needs to be paid for it, anyway. It's not her fault. And Crane said she needs the money, isn't that right?" Evan asked.

"Yeah," I said, feeling even worse.

I thought for a minute, as Ford waved me into a chair. None of us were sitting in our regular spots, but were all

bunched together at one end of the table.

"I'll pay her," I said. Then, the thought occurred to me. "I don't have any money left, though."

Evan looked at me from across the table, and then reached near the fruit bowl, and tipped it up, retrieving the money

that I'd given him that afternoon before leaving with Lori

Evan pushed the folded bills across the table to me, and tucked them under the edge of my plate, without

saying a word. Then he went on, taking a drink of milk, and a bite of bread.

"Thanks," I said, feeling embarrassed as I remembered my haughty speech about paying him for the truck. I felt my cheeks grow

warm as I thought back to my hateful comment about paying it even if it "took the rest of my life".

The three of them started talking about what they needed to get done the next day. A lot of time had been used up that day on me,

and I listened, as the boys decided on the outline of what work took precedence.

"I'll clean the kitchen," I said. The sink and the counters were both stacked with dirty dishes from last night and today. Hannah would have a

conniption fit if she got a look at it.

Then, as I remembered, I said, "I promised Doc G I would go by to check on Sophia."

"Who or what is a Sophia?" Ford asked, draining his milk glass.

"The dachound that Doc did a cesarean on?" I reminded him.

"Yeah, I remember now," Ford said. "My brain's so tired it's on cruise control." He covered his mouth in a wide yawn.

"Yeah," Evan echoed. "I'm done in, too."

I ate my bread, and drank the milk, but pushed the spaghetti around on my plate.

"I still feel a little sick," I told Ford, when he asked why I wasn't really eating.

As we finished, we all rinsed our plates and set them on the counter with all the others. I went to get my shot supplies, and

gave myself the shot. The boys finished clearing off the table, and put the food away.

"No stayin' in bed in the mornin'," Evan said, as we all went out of the kitchen. "We're gonna have to hit it early, and hit it hard."

Ford switched off the lights in the living room, and we all went up the stairs together.

As Evan and Guthrie went on down the hall towards their bedrooms, I caught at Ford's arm.

"Ford-" I began, but he tugged at the end of my messy braid. "We'll talk tomorrow, Har," he said, and I nodded,

as he kissed the top of my head.

I looked at my alarm clock before I turned off my lamp.

It was nearly three o'clock in the morning.

7

It seemed like I'd only just laid down, when I felt someone shaking my shoulder. I tried brushing away the hand like a pesky fly.

"Uh," I said, burying my face in my pillow.

"Come on, Har. Get up and get movin'."

Guthrie.

"Okay," I mumbled, but didn't move.

"Come on!" he said, taking my quilt from me, and rolling me practically onto the floor.

"Guthreeee!" I protested.

"Well, okay," Guthrie said, and I heard his footsteps going to the door. "If you want to face Adam and Brian with all these chores

undone, and make the three of us work even harder because you won't help-"

I sat up. "I'm up!"

I swung my legs onto the floor, pushing back my hair, wild as usual. "Way to make a person feel guilty, Guth," I said.

My only answer was Guthrie's chuckle as he went out the door.

7

I needed to take a shower, but I didn't think I should take the time. Maybe in the afternoon, before everybody else got home,

I could take one. I put on a pair of shorts and a cotton sleeveless shirt. One thing about living in California. You can wear shorts

pretty much year round if you want to.

I went downstairs in my bare feet, and to the kitchen, where Ford was cooking eggs and sausage. They had all apparently been up for

awhile already, because Evan and Guthrie were both nearly finished eating.

Ford tipped the skillet up, and put the food onto a plate, holding it out to me. "Here's yours, Har," he said, and I took it from

him.

"Thanks."

I went to pour myself a cup of coffee, using the largest cup I could find in the cabinet, the one that says Carlsbad Caverns on it.

Ford and I sat down at the same time, all together at the end of the table like the night before. Guthrie pushed back his plate.

"Good eggs, Ford," he complimented.

"But, of course," Ford quipped.

Evan looked across the table at me.

"Is your stomach feelin' better this morning?" he asked me.

"Yeah. I think it's better," I told him, and he nodded.

"I'll get started on that fencing," Evan said, getting to his feet and sliding his chair up to the table. "You about done eatin', Guth?"

"Yeah," Guthrie said, getting to his feet, and finishing his orange juice.

"I'll be out there in a few minutes," Ford said.

"Don't forget to call Mrs. Stevens," Evan reminded me.

I looked at the clock. 7:15. Still fairly early to be calling someone.

"I'll call at eight," I told him.

When Evan and Guthrie had gone out, leaving Ford and I alone, we neither one said anything for a few minutes, both

of us just eating. I finished my eggs, but offered my sausage to Ford.

"I'm full," I told him, and he nodded, taking the sausage link from me, and eating it as he got up to go rinse his

plate at the sink.

"Finish your orange juice," Ford told me.

"Yes, mama hen," I said, drinking down my juice.

Ford gave me a glance. "You need a mama hen, or a keeper, or warden, or somethin'," he said.

I winced a little. "Ouch, Ford," I said. "That's harsh."

"Just stating the facts," Ford replied.

I twisted sideways in my chair so I could look at him straight on.

"I guess you have something to say to me, right?"

Ford leaned against the counter and surveyed me with a serious expression.

"I'm disappointed in you, Harlie," he said, and it felt like someone had punched me in the stomach.

"I know, Ford," I said, with a deep breath, "I messed up big time. But-"

"I understand about going to the party," Ford went on, as if I hadn't spoken. "I never cared about goin' to them, but I

understand you might want to go sometimes. But you shouldn't have gone with just Lori. You should have gone with Guthrie. It's

dangerous for girls alone at big parties like that. Especially with kids from out of town there. And you drank, too. That's just

adding to the dumb."

I picked up my plate and took it to the sink, walking around him. I started emptying the sink, so I could start running

hot water. I felt tears pricking at the corner of my eyes. Ford's opinion matters a lot to me, and his words really hurt.

"I was just mad," I mumbled, under my breath.

"What'd you say?" he asked. "I didn't hear you."

I turned to look at him. "I was just mad. That's why I went up there."

"Well, that makes it even worse," Ford said. "Do you have any idea how worried we were when you didn't come home?"

I blinked at Ford, trying not to cry. "I'm sorry for worrying you and Evan. It was wrong."

Ford sighed. "Okay."

"Do you forgive me?" I asked, sounding sort of plaintive, even to myself.

"Of course I forgive you, goofy. I'm just givin' you a talking to."

I swiped at a traitorous tear on my cheek, and looked up at him, feeling forlorn.

"You don't have to cry," Ford said. "I just want you to smarten up a little. Okay?"

"Okay," I managed to say.

Ford went out shortly after that, and I started cleaning the kitchen. I tried to think about something else, but I felt really down.

In the middle of cleaning, I stopped long enough to call Mrs. Stevens. One of the little kids answered, and when I asked for her,

I could hear them yelling, "Grannndmaaa! Telephone!"

I apologized to Mrs. Stevens for not being at home for the tutoring session, and gave her a glossed over version of what

had happened, merely saying that I had some trouble with Evan's truck, and that my brothers had come to help me.

She very kindly said that she'd just been concerned, and when I said that she would still get paid for the session, she

insisted that wasn't necessary.

"Yes, ma'm," I told her. "It's only right."

"Alright, thank you, dear. Do you want to have a makeup session today?"

I thought about all the chores that needed doing. And, I knew how tired I was likely to be by the afternoon. I still had homework to do,

and I just saw no way to do tutoring, too.

I explained that I didn't think there would be time enough, and Mrs. Stevens said that was fine, and she'd see me next Saturday afternoon,

unless I wanted to meet on an evening in the middle of the week.

I went back to the dishes, and finishing took a long time, because some of them needed a lot of scrubbing. Then I wiped down all the

counters. When I thought that the kitchen would pass muster with Hannah, I went upstairs and got my laundry, which included my clothes from

the night before. As I carried them downstairs to the basement, the smell coming from my shirt and jeans reeked of alcohol.

I wrinkled my nose. Ford had been right. I probably had smelled like a brewery.

I loaded the washer, and started that load, and then took out the towels from the dryer, carrying them upstairs, and laying

them on the kitchen table. I'd just started folding them when the phone started ringing. I went to the living room, hurrying to answer it.

My "Hello?" was breathless.

"Hey, sugarplum. You sound like you've been runnin'."

"Oh. No, just trying to hurry to the phone," I said.

"How's everything there at home?" Adam asked.

I hesitated, feeling as if Adam would somehow be able to sense thru the telephone wires that everything was not fine.

I settled for a simple, "Busy."

"The boys in the house?" he asked.

"No. They're outside. Did you want to talk to them?"

"No, that's alright. I just thought I'd call real quick while I'm waitin' for Hannah and Clare to get back from their shopping."

"Oh." I hesitated. "Are you having a good time?"

"I'm more than ready to get home," Adam said, which in Adam-speak meant that he was restless and probably bored.

"Oh," I said again. "When are you leaving?"

"Brian and I are hopin' after lunch."

There was a small silence, which I broke when I spoke up. "I just got done cleaning the kitchen," I offered.

"Oh, yeah? Lots of dishes?" Adam guessed, correctly.

"Yeah. The boys are real slobs," I said, and Adam laughed.

"No argument there," he said.

It was so good to hear him laugh. I considered telling him right now about what had happened with Evan's

truck, and not waiting until he got home. Somehow it felt right to do.

"Yesterday wasn't a good day," I said, as an opening to my confession.

"Yeah? How come?" he asked.

"I borrowed Evan's truck to go check on things at the vet office, and I messed it up. The truck, I mean."

"Are you hurt?" Adam demanded immediately. I could hear the panic in his voice, as he imagined a car accident.

"No! Nothing like that. I'm fine. But the truck isn't."

"Did you have a fender bender in town?" he asked, then.

"No. Not a fender bender. I drove thru some water," I admitted.

"What water?"

"A low water crossing. There was water over the road. I thought I could do it-"

"Did it stall out?" Adam asked, not sounding all that concerned now,

and I realized that he thought I was just talking about a few inches of water. He hadn't grasped the

horribleness of the situation.

I hesitated.

"You still there, sugar?" Adam prompted.

"Yes. I'm here." I took a deep breath, and then I spilled out the rest of the story, really quickly,

the words tumbling over one another, before I lost my nerve.

"It was a lot of water-it was really high. It happened so fast, and I didn't know what to do. Some fellows

pulled it out of the creek with their tractor."

"You drove into deep water?" Adam asked, sounding disbelieving.

"I didn't think it looked that deep," I started to make an excuse. Then I thought better of it. I just needed to

be honest. No point in trying to sugar coat it.

"Yes. I did," I admitted. "I thought I could stay on the road, but there was a current and it swept

me off. It happened so fast-"

"Did you have to swim out?" Adam said, worry lacing his voice.

"Yeah, I did."

"Where's the truck?"

"Eddie Marmon and his cousin pulled it to Jake's station." I twirled the phone cord around my fingers

nervously.

"What did Jake say about it?"

"He said he'd know more at the first of the week."

I heard Adam's deep sigh and I knew he was struggling for patience. "Harlie Marie."

"I'm going to help pay for it. I told Evan that I would-"

"And what did Evan say to that?"

"He said to wait and see what Jake said, and the insurance people, and then we would talk

about it."

"He did, huh? Well, good for him," Adam said, and I could hear pride in his voice.

"Thank God you're alright," he said. "It sure could have turned out different." He sighed again. "I swear, Harlie

Marie, you're makin' me gray before my time."

"I'm sorry," I said, quietly.

"I twirled the phone cord tighter around my fingers, waiting for him to say something else.

"Sounds like it was a rough day, alright," he said finally.

"It was," I agreed, thinking that he had absolutely no idea of how rough things got later on that evening.

"Well," he hesitated, as if he was thinking. "I better get off of here. We'll see you all later on today."

"Okay."

"Think you can stay out of trouble until we get home?"

I couldn't tell if he was entirely serious or not. It didn't sound like he was teasing.

"Yeah," I told him.

"What?" he asked, sounding irritated. When he says 'what?' in that tone, it means you need to rethink

your answer.

"Yes, sir," I amended.

We said goodbye and I went back to my chores. I did a couple loads of laundry, including the bag

that Ford had brought home from college. I thought it wouldn't hurt to do what I could to get back into

Ford's good graces. While the laundry was drying, I ran the vacumn in the living room. After all of that, it

was only ten o'clock. It seemed like I had been up forever. I was so tired I actually considered sneaking in a

nap, but I knew I couldn't. I drank two more cups of coffee in an effort to stay alert, and folded Ford's clothes, stacking

them neatly on the coffee table.

I went in search of my second oldest pair of boots, and I was getting frustrated, looking thru my closet,

until I remembered that I'd shed those in the truck before I went out the window into the water. Great. With the

loss of my beloved teal blue boots added to that, I was down to only one pair now. They're so beat up the

heel was flapping loose on one of them. I yanked them on, and went downstairs and outside.

Warrior and Gus were laying on the porch in the sun and I stooped down to pet them and give Warrior

a rub behind his ear. They both got up and tagged after me. I went to check on the goats. We're down

to only five now. Elwood P. Dowd and his four friends. I fed and watered them and then

went to talk to the boys, who were pulling up in the Jeep.

Guthrie was complaining about how hungry he was, as they unloaded the fencing supplies, and

carried them back into the barn.

"It's not even eleven o'clock," Evan told him.

"Have a heart, Ev. I'm a growin' boy," Guthrie said, hamming it up.

"Okay, okay, let's feed the range cubes and then we'll go eat lunch," Evan said. "We'll start

the other stuff after that."

Evan looked at me.

"Did you call Mrs. Stevens?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yeah, I did."

"How's the house look?"

"Pretty good, I think," I told him. "Kitchen's all clean, and I ran the vacumn cleaner."

"That's good."

Guthrie loaded the range cubes, and he and I went into the pasture with the Jeep, where we stopped

to fill all the feeders. The cattle remind me of little kids that want their treat, with the way they run towards

the Jeep. Brian says the range cubes are like candy to the cows.

As we were emptying the last sack, I stuffed it into the back of the Jeep, and we climbed back in.

"Adam called again," I told Guthrie.

"He did?"

"Uh huh. I told him."

"Told him what?" Guthrie asked, putting the Jeep in gear and starting back towards the barn, driving

carefully around the cattle.

"About everything. You know."

"About goin' to the party last night?" Guthrie demanded, looking shocked.

"No, silly. I'm not crazy. I mean about Evan's truck."

"Oh. What'd he say?"

"Not too much, really. He didn't yell or anything."

"Well, that's good," Guthrie said.

"Yeah," I agreed.

I was quiet for a minute and then I said, "I feel really bad about the truck, Guth. Do you think

it will cost a lot of money?"

"If they total it out, then the insurance will pay a certain amount. I think Evan only has liability, though."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"It means that his insurance will only pay a small amount for a different truck."

"Oh," I said, in a small voice. "That's bad." I thought for a second. "I wonder if he has much

money saved up."

"Naw, I don't think so," Guthrie said, pulling up to the gate.

I got out to go open it while he drove thru, and then I fastened the gate back. I walked over to

Guthrie as he got out of the parked Jeep.

"It'll be okay," Guthrie said, reading my morose mood correctly.

I shrugged, not really too convinced of that.

We went in to eat lunch. Leftover spaghetti again. I was heartily sick of facing warmed over

spaghetti. I made up my mind to cook something else for supper.

"How about hamburgers tonight?" I asked in a general way.

Guthrie's eyes lit up, and he nodded in approval. "Sounds great," he said.

"Okay," I said, thinking ahead to what to fix with the hamburgers.

"I have to admit, hamburgers would be a nice change," Ford agreed.

"I wonder if I should make enough for everybody. Adam just said they'd be here by suppertime. Do you think they'll

stop to eat somewhere?" I wondered aloud.

Guthrie, busy eating, didn't answer.

"Probably a good idea to have enough for everybody," Ford said.

Evan hadn't contributed to this subject, or done much talking at all during lunch. He looked like he was thinking

hard about something.

"Don't you think so?" Ford asked, nudging Evan.

"Huh?"

"Harlie says she'll make some supper. Think they'll stop to eat before they get home?" Ford prompted.

"I don't know," Evan shrugged. "Adam and Brian will more than likely be itchin' to get home."

I wondered what had Evan so deep in thought. Feeling guilty, I thought it probably had to do with his truck, or

rather, the lack of a truck.

"I'll make enough, just in case," I said.

As we were getting up from the table, I started stacking dishes.

"Do you two have homework to finish?" Evan asked, looking at Guthrie and I.

"Yeah," Guthrie said, and I nodded.

"Well, head in today in time to get it done," Evan told us. "I don't want the blame for it not bein' finished."

"What's next, boss man?" Guthrie asked Evan.

"Cleanin' the barn, changin' the oil in the tractor, the chicken pen needs new wire, pick any one

or all," Evan told him.

"Chicken pen," Guthrie said.

"I'll start on the tractor," Ford said.

"Barn for me," Evan sighed.

They all seemed to look at me at the same time, as if to see where I was going to volunteer.

"I'll do these dishes, and then I'll come out to help," I said, in a general way to all of them.

"Come on out to the barn, alright?" Evan said, and his look said more than his words.

"Okay," I said, meeting his eyes.

I sighed, as I did the dishes in the quiet kitchen. I guessed that Evan had decided on something

to dole out, concerning me going to the party.

When I'd cleaned up the kitchen, for the second time that day, I went outside, going to the barn

where I found Evan, pitching fresh hay into the stalls.

I didn't say anything, I just got a pitchfork and started helping.

After a few minutes, I broke the silence.

"Adam called this morning," I volunteered.

"He did?"

"Yeah. I told him about driving into the water with your truck."

Evan gave me a sideways glance. "You did, huh?"

"I just couldn't face it, having to tell them all when they get home. I decided to just tell him."

"Well, that's good," he said, like he was thinking on something.

Finally, when we were finished, and Evan still hadn't spoken up, I put my pitchfork away, and

went to sit down on a bale of hay.

"Are you going to let me off the hook?" I asked, halfway seriously, thinking that he didn't seem like he

was going to say anything about last night.

Evan looked surprised, leaning his pitchfork against the stall.

He went to the shelves at the back of the barn, and came back carrying a hammer

and two small nails.

"Give me your boot," he said.

"What?"

"Give me your boot," Evan said again, pointing at my foot, and sounding as if he was short

on patience. "I'll fix the heel on it."

I pulled off my boot and handed it to him. He started tapping a nail into the loose heel.

"They're pretty worn out," I said.

"Yeah. They are."

"Thanks for fixing it," I told him.

"I'm just tired of hearing it flap around," Evan said, dismissing my thanks, and sounding

brusque.

I could feel the tension radiating from him, and I was a little puzzled by it. I'd thought after

we'd talked last night that he wasn't so angry with me anymore.

"Are you still mad at me?" I asked him.

"I'm not mad. I'm just still surprised how you could deliberately try to worry Ford and me

like you did."

He sure sounded like he was mad. I bit at my lip, trying to think.

"I feel bad about it," I told him. "I was just upset about Eddie."

"Well, that's no excuse for it," Evan snapped, and handed me back my boot, the heel

nailed back on.

I pulled my boot back on, watching him out of the corner of my eye.

"If you think that I shouldn't have said anything to Eddie, then okay. Come home and

talk to me about it. I'm not saying that I was wrong, though. I still say he's too old for

you to date," Evan threw in. "But you could have talked to me. Instead you did somethin'

dangerous and stupid. And cruel, too. You should have seen the way Ford kept goin' to

the window, waitin' for you to come home. He was crazy worried."

"I apologized to Ford," I jumped in, as soon as Evan stopped talking. "And he

understands. He accepted my apology."

Evan didn't answer that. He got up and went to return the hammer to the shelf where

he'd gotten it.

"What else do you want me to do?" I asked him, stretching my legs out in front of me, and

looking at him. "I said I was sorry. I know it was the wrong thing."

"It's just not like you," Evan said, coming to stand in front of me, his hands in his pockets. "It's

just-well, it was real mean-spirited."

Mean-spirited! I stared at him, trying to think. Why did that have such a familiar

ring to it? Then, I remembered. That's exactly what he'd said about Reagan! And I was well

aware of what his opinion of Reagan Clark is!

"So I'm mean-spirited?" I asked him, my voice a dare, if he chose to hear it.

"No. You're not. That's not what I'm sayin'-" Evan began.

"You just said I was!" I yelled, feeling myself getting upset. I was tired, and overwhelmed, and I

felt guilty about the truck, and I just wanted to scream. And now my feelings were hurt.

"I didn't mean that you're like that. It's just your actions that were," Evan clarified. "I

expect better from you. That's all."

"Well, maybe you expect too much from me!" I exploded. "Maybe you all just expect

too damn much of me!"

Evan was staring at me, with a stunned look, at my temper outburst.

"Calm down," he ordered.

I sat where I was, breathing a little hard, glaring at him.

"And we do not expect too much," he went on.

Guthrie came to the door of the barn, followed by Ford.

"What's all the yellin' about?" Guthrie demanded.

"Yeah, what's goin' on?" Ford added.

I stood up. "Nothing at all going on here," I said, walking towards the door. I stopped

beside where Guthrie and Ford were standing, and then turned back towards Evan, to give him a glare.

"Nothing, except that Evan's mad, but he's saying that he's not, and he's decided

that he wants Reagan Clark for a sister instead of me."

And with that as my exit line, I started towards the house.

7777777

"


	12. Reckoning

Well, it would have been a perfect parting comment. Worthy of an Oscar award in Hollywood, even. Only

one thing ruined it.

Which happened to be the fact that my brothers didn't let me have my moment. First, Ford caught

at my arm. "Harlie-" he began.

I pulled my arm free, and went on towards the house. Until Evan started yelling.

"Harlie, you stop right there!" he hollered, sounding like a bull moose.

I guess that my sense of self-preservation was napping, kind of like I wished that I could be

doing, because I didn't stop, I just kept walking towards the house.

"HARLIE!" Evan bellowed.

"Leave me alone!" I hollered, over my shoulder.

I saw Evan sprint into a run, right towards me, and it seemed like he was

coming really fast. So I started running, too, as fast as I could, to the house.

I ran up the porch stairs, and inside, letting the screen door slam behind me.

I made it to the couch, and dodged behind it, trying to catch my breath, before Evan caught up with me.

"What the hell has gotten into you?" he yelled.

I was not pleased to see that Evan was not out of breath at all.

"Mean spirit is what has gotten into me!" I yelled back at him.

"You are bein' ridiculous," Evan announced, facing me from the other side

of the couch, his hands on his hips.

"Yes, I'm ridiculous! And stupid, and mean-spirited!" I hollered, as Guthrie and

Ford appeared at the living room door and burst inside.

"I wasn't sayin' you're like Reagan. You're not. You're takin' what I said all wrong," Evan

told me. "Let's sit down, and calm down, and talk this out," he added, gesturing to the couch.

"No! I tried talking to you in the barn! Now, I'm done talking! I'm going up to my room,

and I'm staying there the rest of the day!" I informed him haughtily.

"Come on, Har," Guthrie interjected, popping his knuckles in nervous agitation. "Sit

down a minute, and listen-"

"Of course!" I snapped. "Take Evan's side! Guys stick together, no matter what, right?!"

Guthrie's quick look of hurt pierced me, but I tried to ignore it.

"That's not true, and you know it," Ford said. "Just calm down and listen."

"You all need to stop telling me to calm down!" I yelled.

Evan made a grab for me, across the couch, but I dodged back.

"I'm going upstairs, and you're going to let me go, and leave me alone!" I warned

Evan, with a glare.

"You're not goin' upstairs," Evan said, his face stony. "Not yet, anyway."

"I am," I said stoutly, meeting his glare.

"No," he countered, his eyes flashing.

I looked toward the kitchen door, gauging my chances of getting there, and up the back stairs,

without being caught.

"Don't even think about it," Evan said fiercely, correctly reading my thoughts.

I picked up a plastic glass of iced tea that one of the boys had left on the table beside

the couch. I held it up, threateningly, my intent clear.

"Harlie, so help me, if you throw that tea on me, you're gonna regret it," Evan said,

his voice deadly quiet.

"I'm not afraid of you!" I informed him. Which, at that particular moment, was a blatant, out and out lie.

"Step out from behind that couch, then," Evan dared, and I knew he was aware I was lying about not

being scared.

"This has gone on long enough," Ford said, his voice taut. "Both of you, just cool it."

Ford made an attempt to reach for my arm, but I jerked back, which only resulted in

the tea sloshing out of the glass and all over Ford.

I stood there, staring at Ford. It is simply amazing that what looks like a small amount

of liquid in a glass, can really be enough to thoroughly soak a person's shirt.

"Ford-" I started to say that I was sorry. That I hadn't meant to soak him with it.

But I stopped talking, because now Ford looked mad, too.

I turned to run, but I only made it as far as the kitchen door before Evan caught me.

He caught me around my waist, picking me up off my feet. I started struggling to get

loose, and he squeezed tighter, toting me back into the living room.

"You're hurting me!" I accused him.

"No, I'm not," he denied.

"You are!" I insisted.

Evan set me on my feet beside the couch, but kept an iron-clad grip on one

of my wrists.

"You're being a bully right now!" I hollered.

Evan sat down on the arm of the couch, and before I could say lickity split, or truely grasp

the situation, he pulled me across his knee, and started smacking the seat of my

jeans. I yelled at him to stop, and accused him again, at the top of my lungs, of being nothing

but a bully. I could hear Ford saying something, but I don't know what it was,

because I was yelling so loud, and it felt like there was air rushing thru my ears.

It didn't take but a couple more of those swats, and I started crying. I tried not to, but

I couldn't help it.

I hollered for Ford to stop Evan, but I could see Ford standing off to the side, and

his expression was serious, but not all that sympathetic, and he made no effort to help me.

I was crying full out by now. "Stop! Please, Ev!"

Evan gave me a couple more good smacks, and then he stopped, letting me up.

I stood there, crying, and trying to catch my breath, rubbing my backside. I stared at

Evan, wide-eyed, still having trouble believing what had just happened.

Evan didn't look sorry. In fact, he still looked kind of mad. I took a cautionary step back away

from him.

"Harlie, go take a shower and start your homework," Ford told me quietly.

Well, I went. I ran past Guthrie, up the stairs, and went to my room, slamming my door.

7

I stayed in my room for a long time. At least an hour passed, in which I accomplished

absolutely nothing, except crying, and punching my pillow, and tossing stuff around my room.

I tried to think things out in my head, but every time I started replaying it all, I just cried

harder. I sorted out my feelings enough to know that I'd gone a little bit crazy, and Evan

had retaliated.

Finally, I opened my door just a crack, looking into the hallway. When it appeared empty,

I opened the door wider, listening for any noise or talking. I couldn't hear anything upstairs,

or even from downstairs. I got a change of clothes, sweatpants and a Bugs Bunny t-shirt,

and went to take a shower.

When I came out of the bathroom, I did the same covert inspection of the hallway, and

then went back to my bedroom, shutting the door, and locking it.

I started my homework, doing my English, and beginning my science, still crying a little, intermittently.

There was a light tap on my door. "Har?"

"Go away, Guth," I said, swiping at my wet cheek.

"Can I talk to ya? Please?"

"Not now," I told him.

"Alright," Guthrie said, and then all was quiet again.

I finished my science, and then I just laid there, on my bed, not even attempting my math. I drifted into sleep, woken up by another knock on the door.

"Har?" Now it was Ford.

He knocked again, more insistent. "Harlie?"

I was silent. Maybe he'd think I was sleeping.

Then I heard him twist the doorknob. When he found it locked, he knocked again.

"Harlie, I want to talk to you. Open the door."

"I'm fine, Ford. Can't you just leave me alone?" I spoke up softly.

"No. I can't. I'm not going away until you open the door and talk to me."

I recognized the tone of his voice. Ford is quiet, and gentle by nature. But he also

inherited the McFadden trait of stubbornness. I knew he would keep knocking, and then,

eventually, he would find a way to open the door.

I sighed, and sat up, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. I went to unlock the

door, and then twisted the doorknob, opening it. I looked at Ford, and then,

embarrassed, I turned away, and went back to sit in the middle of my bed, cross-legged.

Ford stood there in the doorway for a few moments, and then he came closer, standing beside the

bed.

"We've got the hamburgers going," Ford said.

I nodded, but avoided looking at him.

"Actually, Guthrie's cooking, so eatin' tonight might be a true experience."

I recognized Ford's attempt at humor, but I just nodded again, not answering, wrapping my arms

around my knees, and keeping my eyes on my toes.

"You think you might eat two? Or just one?" Ford asked.

I would have said that I wasn't going to eat even one, but I knew Ford wouldn't be

impressed by that. And, rationally, I knew that I had to eat, or I'd start feeling bad, and

I already had a pounding headache from crying.

"Just one," I told him.

"Okay." Ford hesitated, and then he said, tentatively, "Things got out of hand, downstairs. It shouldn't

have had to go as far as it did."

"And you're up here to tell me that it was my fault, right?" I said.

Ford stuck his hands in his pockets. "Can you just drop the attitude? Please?"

I looked at him directly, for the first time since he'd come into the room.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Okay. Things will look better after we all eat, and get some sleep. Part of the problem is, we're

all exhausted from last night."

"Evan didn't have to get so rough," I said stubbornly.

Ford looked thoughtful. "Well. Maybe not," he said. "You didn't have to get so mouthy, either."

"Are you staying tonight?" I asked him, to change the subject.

Sometimes, when he spends the weekend, Ford goes back on Sunday night,

and sometimes not until Monday morning.

"Yeah. Evan thinks I ought to stay. And I'm pretty tired. I don't want to take the chance

on falling asleep while I'm drivin'."

I hugged my legs tighter, resting my chin on my knees.

"I ruined your weekend home," I said.

"I don't know about that," he considered. "But it hasn't been boring, that's for sure."

"I'm really embarrassed, Ford."

Ford didn't pretend to not understand, or act like he didn't know exactly what I was

talking about.

"I know," he said quietly.

"I didn't mean to throw the tea on you."

"I know," he said again. "Everything will be alright. You and Evan just need to talk it out."

"I can't face him," I said.

"Well, since you live in the same house, you're not gonna have much choice about that,"

Ford said drily.

Guthrie's voice came from the bottom of the stairs.

"SUPPER! Come and get it, or I'm throwin' it out!" he yelled out.

Ford held his hand out to me. I looked at it, and then at him.

Ford wiggled his fingers at me. "Come on, Har."

I sighed, and took his hand, letting him pull me up and off of the bed. When we went into

the kitchen, I was following Ford reluctantly. Again, there were four glasses of milk poured

at four plates at one end of the table. Guthrie was setting a plate heaped with hamburgers

in the center of the table, and then added a bowl of French fries next to it.

Evan was pulling ketchup and mustard, and pickles out of the refrigerator, and putting them on

the table. His gaze rested briefly on Ford and I, and then he came and sat down in the

chair that he'd been occupying at meals for the last two days. Guthrie slid into the seat

next to Evan, already reaching for a hamburger.

Ford gave me a push towards my chair, and then sat down beside me.

"And the adventure in cuisine begins," Ford joked, picking up a hamburger and looking it over,

as if it was going to sprout wings and fly away.

"Hey," Guthrie protested, around his bite of hamburger. "I'm a good cook. Just

because I don't like to do it, doesn't mean I'm not good at it."

"We shall see," Ford told him.

Guthrie and Ford kept up a steady conversation during the meal, all while they

both consumed three hamburgers each. Evan, on the other hand, was as silent

as I was.

"They didn't make it home by supper after all," Guthrie said in conversation.

"Well, it's still early," Ford said. "It's not five yet." Then, he gave me a nudge in my

ribs. "And hey, thanks for doin' my laundry for me."

"You're welcome," I said, doing my best to finish my hamburger.

"Don't you like my burgers?" Guthrie asked me, looking concerned.

"They're good, Guth," I assured him.

I was still finishing my hamburger and milk, when Evan got up and pushed in his

chair. He set his plate in the sink. "I'm gonna grab a shower real quick," he said, and then

he went out to the living room.

"Since I cooked, does that mean I'm off dish duty?" Guthrie asked, in a general way of

Ford and I.

"Let's just stack 'em tonight," Ford said. "Hannah won't mind just these few dishes not

being done, will she, Har?"

"I don't think she will," I told him.

So the three of us made our way to the living room, where Guthrie took residence on

one of the couches, and Ford settled himself in Adam's oversized easy chair, his feet

propped on the ottoman, and closed his eyes.

I sat down on the end of the other couch, and then stretched my legs out.

"It seems like I've been on my feet for days," Guthrie complained.

"It does feel good to rest," Ford agreed. "Three hours of sleep just doesn't cut it."

"Especially since you've gotten soft, livin' the college life," Guthrie quipped.

"If I wasn't so tired, I'd show you who's boss, little brother," Ford said, without opening

his eyes.

For a few minutes there was silence in the room. The shrill ringing of the telephone

brought me sharply out of my thoughts. Since neither Guthrie or Ford made a move to

answer it, I got to my feet.

My 'hello' was answered by a cheerful, and easily recognizable, "Hullo, Harlie!"

"Hi, Nancy."

"How's the temperature there at the McFadden house? Roaring hot with temper,

or frigid with silence?" she asked lightly.

"Hot earlier, frigid now," I said shortly, not really in the mood for her teasing.

"Hmm. Well, hang in there. I have some good news," she announced.

"What?"

"I found your boot."

"You did? That's great. Thanks, Nancy."

"No problem. Evan 'round?"

I started to tell her that Evan was in the shower, when I saw him appearing at the top

of the stairs then.

"Yeah. He's here. Hang on a second." As Evan came to the bottom of the stairs, in sweatpants

and a 'Rodeo for Life' t-shirt, I held out the receiver to him. "It's Nancy," I told him.

Evan nodded, and took the phone from me. As he started talking, I went back to

my place on the couch I'd vacated.

"Next for the shower," Ford said, getting up, and heading for the stairs.

After a few minutes, Evan hung up the phone, and went thru the living room, and out

to the front porch. I sat there in the quiet, and the only sound was Guthrie, snoring

softly from the other couch.

When Ford came back downstairs, he pointed at Guthrie, and laughed.

"Where's Evan?" he asked.

"He went outside. I think he's on the porch."

Ford came over and sat down beside me.

"This would be a good time, don't ya think?" he asked me.

"A good time for what?"

"A good time to talk to Evan."

"Sure," I said. "Go on ahead if you want to."

"Ha ha," Ford said, and nudged me in the side. "Go on and get it over with."

"Do I have to?" I asked, looking up at him, halfway seriously.

"You know you do, goofy. Go on."

7

I went out to the porch, reluctantly, but Evan wasn't there. I looked across the yard,

and saw him leaning on the corral fence.

I walked slowly over, and saw that he was engrossed in watching the horses. Polly's foal was

scampering and tossing his head, and then running back to his mother.

Evan gave me a sideways glance as I took the spot beside him, climbing up on the bottom rung to

rest my arms on the top panel.

"Hey," I said quietly.

"Hey."

"Nancy said she found my boot," I said inanely.

"That's good."

"Yeah," I said, and then we faded into silence.

After a few minutes, I braved that silence.

"I'm kind of embarrassed," I admitted quietly.

"I'm not gonna apologize for spanking you, Harlie," he said.

I felt my face grow warm. "I know." I fastened my eyes on the lively colt. I searched for the

right words to say.

"I was wrong," I said slowly, and sighed. "I guess I really was acting like

Reagan."

Evan seemed to consider what I'd said, and then he answered, "Maybe I do expect a lot from you. I

guess we all do. But, actin' like you did, you're better than that. And last night, tryin' to worry

us, to teach us a lesson, you're better than that, too."

I continued to look out over the pasture, focusing intently on the colt to keep the tears from forming

in my eyes. I was tired of crying. And it wouldn't solve anything.

"Playin' games like that, to hurt people, and tryin' to manipulate them, that's not the

kind of person you really are. That's not you, Harlie," Evan went on.

I stepped down onto the ground, and stretched my arm up to the top of the fence, resting

my cheek on my arm, turning to face him.

"I won't intentionally worry you again," I told him sincerely. "You, or Ford, or anyone

else in the family. I promise."

"Okay." Evan let out a sigh that sounded relieved.

"I'm sorry for this whole weekend," I apologized. "Going to that party, and then acting like I

did this afternoon, yelling and being so hateful. And messing up your truck-I wish I could just start

all over. I don't blame you for how you feel about me."

Evan turned so that he was facing me. "How do you think I feel about you?" he asked me.

I thought his voice sounded funny, but I went on with my answer. "Well," I considered, "angry,

and disappointed. And you probably think I'm pretty stupid, driving into water like I did."

Evan took a deep breath, and said, "I was disappointed, yeah, and I was angry when you

threw that tantrum earlier. I don't want you to turn into one of those spoiled girls that act

that way."

"As far as the whole truck situation goes," Evan continued, " It's a bad deal, alright, and

it's goin' to take some figuring out. But I know you didn't drive into that

water thinkin' about messing up my truck. It's just somethin' that happened.

I was mad, for sure, and maybe I shouldn't have yelled at you about it.

But the truck is just a thing. It can be replaced. If something had happened to you, if you hadn't been able to

swim out-" he hesitated.

"Or Guthrie," I added, thinking of those awful moments before Guthrie resurfaced above the water.

"Yeah. Guth, too. If anything had happened to you yesterday, or to Guthrie, well, that would be

the worst thing that could have happened. So, if I said or did anything that made you feel as if

the truck's more important to me than you are, then I'm sorry. Because that's not true."

I stared at him for a long moment, surprised into silence at his words.

I swallowed, feeling as if there was a sudden lump in my throat.

"So, okay?" Evan asked me.

"Yes, okay," I managed.

"I'm not gonna say anything to the rest of the family about you goin' up to the party last

night," Evan said, giving me an intense look.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

"But no datin' a guy as old as Eddie, no parties unless you're with Guthrie, and no actin'

like Reagan Clark," Evan said. "We understand each other, right?"

I felt my face grow warm in embarrassment again. "Yeah. I'd say that's a pretty fair statement."

"Okay."

We watched the colt play for a few minutes longer, and then I offered up a suggestion.

"How about a game of Monopoly?"

7


	13. Guthrie takes charge

We didn't play Monopoly. Evan refused. I reminded him that he'd told Nancy the night before that he would

play. In response, he narrowed his eyes at me, and reminded me that he'd had three hours of sleep due

to me being boneheaded.

But he wasn't really mean about it, and I didn't take offense. Ford helped me with my math, and after that, the

four of us just sat around the living room, sprawled over the furniture, watching a rerun of Gunsmoke on television.

I don't think any of us really saw the whole show, but more just vegetated in front of the t.v., trying to stay

awake, to see everybody when they got home.

As Guthrie dozed off for the second time, Ford nudged him. "Go on up to bed."

"I'm awake," Guthrie insisted. "I'm watchin' the show."

"I think I'll go on up," I said, as the ending music played for the episode.

Evan and Guthrie both said goodnight to me, and Ford stood up, stretching his arms above his head.

"Me, too," he said, and we went up the stairs together.

As tired as we both were, Ford said, "Night, midget," and I just gave him a little wave, going into my own room.

As I was dropping off into almost immediate sleep, I remembered that I hadn't gone to check on Sophia and the puppies.

7

When I went downstairs to breakfast the next morning, the kitchen was already full of noise and people.

Only Ford was missing. As Crane passed me, with a platter heaped high with pancakes, he gave me a side hug with his

free arm. "Hey, peanut," he greeted me, with a smile.

"Hi. How was your weekend with Lila?" I asked him.

"Good. Lot of fun," he told me.

He went on around me to set the platter in the center of the table, while Clare and Hannah both said hello to me,

and Hannah took my face in her hands.

"I'm so glad you're alright," she said. "It was scary, huh?"

"Yeah. It was," I admitted.

"I knew there was a reason we taught you to swim when you were five," Adam said, passing behind me, and tugging

my braid.

As I was pulling out my chair, and before I could sit down at the table, Brian caught my wrist in his hand.

"What were you thinkin'?" he demanded. "You should have known better than to drive into water like you did."

"I didn't think it was as deep as it was," I started to explain.

"It's not like flooding is a common thing around here, Brian," Clare defended me. "None of us would have much

experience with water like that."

I gave Clare a grateful look, but Brian, undeterred by her defense, continued on with his scolding.

"Experience or no, common sense should take over in a case like this. For gosh sakes, Harlie," he said, sounding exasperated.

I'd known I'd get some questions, and teasing about my incident with Evan's truck, but I'd hoped that by

breaking it to Adam over the telephone yesterday morning, that I might avoid getting lectures from anyone other than him. I sighed.

Obviously, that had been a ridiculous assumption, on my part.

"I know, Brian," I said.

"You know what?" he asked.

"I know I shouldn't have driven in it."

Brian gave me a look, and then sounded like he was winding up to say something more. "Well-" he began.

Evan spoke up from his spot across the table, where he was pouring syrup over his stack of pancakes.

"She's been talked to enough about it, Bri. Leave her alone."

Well, that got my attention, as well as everyone else's. I gave Evan a surprised, wide-eyed look, and

then, became even more surprised by the fact that Brian shrugged, and said, "Alright," and went to sit down

in his chair at the table.

"Sit down and eat your breakfast," Hannah told me, and I sat down, scooting my chair up. I took a quick look across

the table again, and, while he was reaching for a piece of bacon, Evan's eyes met mine.

I gave him a small smile, in thanks. He gave a slight nod of understanding in return.

After breakfast, Guthrie and I were rushing around getting ready to leave for school. Ford appeared in the midst

of this, his hair still mussed up from sleep.

When he'd told Guthrie goodbye, he turned to me. I stepped close and wrapped my arms around him.

"I'm sorry about the weekend, Ford."

"You already told me you were sorry," he reminded me.

"I know. I just wanted to tell you one more time," I told him quietly, against his ear.

"Okay. You told me." He grinned at me. "Be good, and I'll see you soon."

I was quiet as we drove to school. And, to be honest, I wasn't feeling very well. Not well at all.

I'd eaten a pancake with peanut butter for breakfast, but I was feeling kind of off-kilter, or "shobbly" which was Hannah's

term for a cross between feeling shaky and wobbly. I hadn't checked my blood sugar levels before we left, and in the hubbub

of the morning, no one had noticed or thought to remind me.

Guthrie, observant as always, gave me a few sidelong glances, then turned down the radio, and asked, "What's wrong? You

feelin' bad?"

"Yeah. A little," I said.

"Why didn't you tell Hannah? And stay home?" Guthrie asked.

"I thought it would pass. I've got an English test."

"There's an apple in the glove compartment. Eat that."

"I ate breakfast. I don't think that's what's wrong." I leaned back in the seat.

Guthrie kept casting worried looks my direction as we drove on. When he pulled into the Baptist Church parking lot,

I sat up in the seat. "What are we stopping for?"

"I'm takin' you back home," he said, and did a U-turn in the road, heading back the direction we'd come.

"No, Guth, don't do that. I'm alright."

"You're not alright."

"Well, I will be. It will pass after a while."

"Maybe it won't. You need to check your level or whatever it is. Hannah needs to know."

"Guthrie, Hannah's only days away from having the baby! I don't want her worrying about

me."

"Alright. Clare, then. Is she home this morning?"

"I don't remember her schedule," I said, trying to think.

"Well, we'll see if she's home. Or I'll find Adam."

"Okay," I agreed, succumbing to Guthrie's stubborn tone. I didn't feel well enough to argue.

When we pulled back into the driveway, Clare's sporty blue car was still sitting in the

driveway. Hannah's little Gremlin was absent, though.

Guthrie came around to my side just as I was opening the door. He watched me get out, popping his

knuckles nervously.

"Let's go in and see who's here," he said.

Guthrie held the door open for me, and ushered me inside. The house was cool, and quiet.

When he'd checked the kitchen, Guthrie came back to the living room, carrying a glass of water, which

he handed to me.

"Nobody's in there," he told me.

I sat down on the couch. "I'll be alright now. Go on and get back to school."

"No. Not until I find somebody," Guthrie said. "I'll go upstairs and see if Hannah's up there."

"Don't, Guth," I protested, but he went anyway, taking the stairs two at a time.

He came back down, and headed out the front door, telling me that he was going to look

for Adam, or Crane or Brian, since Hannah wasn't upstairs.

I sipped at my water, and then set it on the table, and laid down to stretch out on the

couch. I took some deep breaths, trying to relax in the quiet.

Awhile later, when I heard footsteps coming up the front steps, and the screen door opening,

I sat up quickly. Not knowing who it was coming in, I didn't want to portray that I was feeling

really badly by being seen laying down. That would cause too much fussing.

Guthrie had succeeded in rounding up Adam, and he came over to the couch, pulling off his

leather gloves, his forehead wrinkled in concern.

"Not feelin' so great, huh?" he asked me, shoving his gloves into his back pocket.

"No. But I'll be okay after awhile. Probably just a touch of the flu, or something."

Having the flu would be better. That would pass without as much

worry by everyone. If it was my diabetes, that would cause no end of worry, and possible carrying on about

me doing too much, or not taking care of my own health.

Adam reached out and put his hand on the back of my neck, which is how he's always checked

us for fever. I wished mightily that I did have a temperature. A good old-fashioned case of the flu. That's what I wished for.

"You're not warm," he said, dashing that hope to the ground. "You think you need to check your level?"

"Probably so," I said, with a sigh.

"Okay." Adam turned to Guthrie, who was still standing there, popping his knuckles. "Head on back

to school, buddy. I'll call and let them know why you're late."

"Okay," Guthrie said. "I'll see ya later, Har."

"See you," I replied.

When Guthrie had gone, Adam herded me towards the kitchen, where he washed his hands at the kitchen sink

and then stood there drying them, leaning against the sink, and watching me. I checked my blood sugar level,

and Adam poured a cup of coffee.

"Is it high?" he asked me.

"Yeah. A little," I said vaguely.

"What is it?" he asked then, coming closer to me.

I'd been hoping that he wouldn't ask outright. The number wasn't good. I started putting things away,

and he said, "Harlie Marie, what is it?"

I sighed, and told him.

"Hmm," he said.

"It's not a big deal," I said, trying to act casual.

"It is a big deal," Adam said, in disagreement. "Did you do your shot last night? And Saturday

night?"

"Yes." I sighed. I shut the cabinet door with a slam. "It doesn't always have to be

because of something that I did wrong," I complained crossly. "Sometimes it just happens."

"Alright, you little crabapple," Adam returned mildly. "I just asked a question."

"Sorry," I told him, with another sigh. "I didn't mean to snap." I was thinking guiltily of that beer I'd partaken

of Saturday night, and the sips of that sweet wine cooler. That's probably what had caused my blood

sugar to spike.

"Get some peanut butter and crackers and then go lay down for awhile," Adam ordered.

I started to tell Adam I didn't need to eat, but he was already pulling the peanut butter jar down

from the cabinet. I got a plate and spread peanut butter on a few crackers. I refilled my glass of water.

I was really thirsty.

"Where's Hannah?" I asked.

"Her and Clare went for groceries."

"Will you talk to her so she doesn't get all worried about me?" I implored him.

"Yeah, yeah. I will."

Adam waited until I was installed on one of the couches in the living room, where he covered me

with a blanket, and then headed back outside.

"I'll be back in to check on you after a bit," he called back to me as he went out.

I fell asleep fairly quickly after I ate the crackers.

When I woke up, I felt a lot better. I stretched, and then looked up at the mantel clock.

It was after ten. I could hear a mixture of voices from the kitchen, and just when I was thinking about

getting up and going to talk to Hannah and Clare, Brian came from the kitchen to the living room.

He was munching on a doughnut, and he gave me a quick look, obviously still thinking I was

asleep.

"Hi," I said, turning over to look at him.

"Hey." He came over close to the couch. "Feelin' better?"

"A lot better."

"That's good."

I sat up, throwing the blanket off of me. "What are you doing today?"

"Getting ready to head up north a bit, and find a couple cows that haven't come in."

"Oh." I thought longingly of riding along with him. Being out in the fresh air on horseback. It

sounded darn good to me.

"I guess there's no use in asking, huh?" I said.

Brian saw thru my intent. "Probably not," he said. "Hannah's not likely to go for it. Besides, you

probably should take it easy today."

I sighed. "Okay."

Our voices brought Hannah and Clare from the kitchen.

Clare sat down next to me, squeezing my hand.

"I'm fine now," I told Hannah, hoping to forestall any big scene.

Hannah raised her eyebrows, and gave me a "mom" look.

But all she said was, "I'm glad you feel better."

"I was thinking I might ride along with Brian," I offered casually.

"I'm thinking not," Hannah returned promptly, without missing a beat.

Brian chuckled at that, and when I gave him an irritated look, he winked at me.

"See you ladies later," he said, and went outside in the sunshine.

I worked on an English essay that wasn't due for another two weeks. Other than that, I couldn't do

anymore of my homework, since I had to wait until the next day to get it. When Hannah went upstairs

to take a nap, I quizzed Clare on some of her stuff for her nursing finals.

"Let's take a break and get something to eat," she said, after we'd been at it for over an hour. "Come on,"

she said, pulling me to my feet.

"Let's use paper towels so we don't have to do any dishes," Clare suggested, with a grin.

"I'm for that, sister," I agreed.

As we were sitting and eating our tuna fish sandwiches, I looked at the kitchen clock.

"Won't the guys be coming in for lunch soon?" I asked her.

"Not today. Adam was going with Brian, and Crane went with Evan into town to see about his

truck."

"Oh," I said.

"It'll all work out," she told me, correctly reading my downcast expression, at the mention of Evan's truck.

"I know. I just feel bad about it."

When we'd finished our sandwiches, we each took an orange and went back into the living room.

As we peeled and ate our oranges, I asked Clare about the weekend, and how it had been seeing her

sister. She told me about the women's shelter, and how cute her little niece was.

"I'm just glad she got away from Jarod. Maybe now she'll have a chance in life," Clare told me.

"Was he always mean to her?" I asked.

"No. He was real nice at first. Charming. Telling her what she wanted to hear. You know the type I

mean."

I nodded as Clare continued talking. "Connie was too young when she got with him. I tried to tell

her, but she didn't think she needed to listen to a big sister."

I thought for a minute, sucking the juice out of my orange.

"Do you think if you'd had brothers it might have been different?" I asked.

Clare looked at me with a twinkle in her blue eyes. "If they were like yours, then yeah, I definitely think

it would have made a difference. I can see any one of them stepping up to Jarod and telling him

to get lost, that Connie was too young. Or busting his face the first time he put his hands on her."

"Evan and Ford told Eddie that I couldn't go out with him. Because they think he's too old

for me," I shared, watching Clare's face for a reaction.

"They did?" she asked, looking thoughtful.

"Yes. And I didn't know it. And then I saw Eddie at the Dari Kurl and he told me."

"Oh," Clare said, looking sympathetic. "That must have been hard."

"It was horrible! Especially after what happened earlier that day."

"Which was?"

"I gave Eddie a ride home that morning. That's why I was in the area of the low water

crossing with Evan's truck. Anyway, when I dropped him off at his cousin's house, he kissed

me."

"Oh, Harlie," Clare said, her eyes crinkling in understanding.

"And he told me he was going to ask me out soon on a real date, like to dinner and a movie. Then,

when I saw him at the Dari Kurl, he said I was pretty and that he liked me, but that we couldn't

date, because Evan didn't want us to!"

Clare took my hand and squeezed it, giving a sigh.

"Then he made it worse by saying that he understands now how the boys feel!" I expostulated.

"I'm sorry, hon. I really am," she said, and I could tell that Clare was sincere.

"I know," I sighed.

"You probably don't want to hear this, but the guys meant well, I know. They have your best

interests at heart."

"Yes. I know."

"Guess that's small comfort, though, huh?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I just really like Eddie. Or liked him, I mean," I said, changing my words.

"You still like him. Admit it," Clare challenged.

"I do. First he said he might ask me out again in a year or so. But I know he's changed his mind now. He's

disgusted with me now."

"Why?"

"Well, because of Saturday night," I rattled off without thinking. "He thought I was acting stupid."

"What happened Saturday night?" Clare asked.

I realized my mistake in mentioning Saturday night. That's the problem with talking to Clare.

She's so easy to confide in that I get carried away.

"Never mind," I said.

Clare wrinkled her forehead. "Something you don't want to tell me?"

I gave her a guilty look. "Evan and Ford know about it. Evan said we could keep it between us. It's something

Brian and Adam would be really upset about-"

"Oh." Clare looked a little startled, and unsure.

"I mean, it's nothing to worry about," I assured her. "It's over, and I promised Evan I wouldn't

do it again."

"Alright," Clare said, still looking reluctant. I wondered if Clare would feel better about it if

I told her that Evan had hollered, and lectured, and paddled my rear end.

I settled for saying, "Evan was really strict about it."

Clare gave me a little smile. "Was he?" she asked.

"Yeah. He was a real bad ass."

"Well," she said. "Okay, then."

"Guess what?" I asked, to change to the subject. "Nancy told me she loves Evan!"

7


	14. Expression of Love

When Evan came home later Monday evening, accompanied by Crane, they had a lengthy conversation

on the porch with Adam and Brian. I knew they were discussing Evan's truck, the condition of it, and

what was going to need to be done about it.

I watched out the window, holding the curtains back. I could only catch snippets of their conversation.

Hannah, on her way thru from the kitchen, saw me standing there, and said immediately,

"Come away from the window."

"I should be out there, too," I said. "So I can hear what Evan found out."

"You'll find out soon enough," Hannah said.

As she went on thru the living room, and up the stairs, I moved from the window to stand in front

of the screen door. Here I could hear more clearly. Clearly enough to determine that

as predicted, the truck was not fixable, but would be totaled out. My stomach started knotting up.

Next their conversation turned to what amount of money Evan might receive from his insurance for a

replacement vehicle.

I edged the squeaky door open, and stepped out, leaning against the side of house, wanting to hear

but yet not wanting to draw attention to myself.

They were discussing now how Evan might start looking around for another truck, and where

the best place might be to do that.

"Stan Kinder has a Ford for sale," Brian spoke up. "A 1980, I think it is."

"A Ford, huh?" Evan said, with obvious reluctance.

"If the price is right, you may have to learn to love a Ford," Brian told him.

"I agree with that," Adam said.

They turned to go inside then, still talking, and went by me without seeming to even notice

I was standing there. Except for Brian, who ran a hand over my hair, as he passed by.

7

The rest of the week passed fairly uneventfully. Everyone mostly watched Hannah, as her belly

grew larger. Of course, we all pretended to NOT be watching her.

On Friday evening of that week, our church ladies gave a baby shower for Hannah.

Afterwards, Adam and Brian came to help load everything up, and took some of the bigger things home

in the truck.

"Good gravy," Brian exclaimed, as they loaded a bassinet and stroller, "Look at all this

loot."

"All the more to pass on to you and Clare when the time comes," Hannah quipped.

Clare giggled at that, and Brian looked stunned, sort of a 'deer in the headlights' look.

"I can stay around and help clean up," I said. "Mrs. Irwin looked like she was kind of tired."

"That's nice, sweetie," Hannah said, and looked at Adam. "What do you think, hon?"

"How would you get home?" Adam asked me.

I pointed down the street toward the vet office. "Doc G's at the office. Maybe I could

get a ride with him. He probably needs some help, anyway."

"You can't be too late," Hannah said, and I sighed. She was still worrying over Monday

when I came home from school because I was feeling bad.

"Go on and ask Doc while we're finishing up here," Adam told me.

When I walked into the vet office, and shut the heavy door behind me, the bell over the door

clanged. I went thru the swinging doors to the back, and when I still didn't see Doc G anywhere,

I went outside. He was sitting in a chair against the building, his legs stretched out in front of him,

eating a Twizzler.

"Hullo, Harlie Mac," he greeted me. "What are you up to?"

"Wondering if you needed any help tonight. We were in town for Hannah's baby shower,

and I thought maybe you could give me a ride home later."

"Oh, you thought that, did you?" he asked, and I could tell he was teasing.

"Well, yeah," I said, going along with the teasing. "If you want to, that is."

"Oh, I expect I could be persuaded," he said. "The Clark's are bringing some horses in after

awhile. I could probably use some help."

I rolled my eyes at the mention of the Clarks. "Reagan? Oh, sure, getting to see Reagan

will just make my day."

Doc G chuckled.

"I have to go tell Adam and Hannah, and then help clean up at the church. I'll be back in

just a bit," I told him.

I was held up at the church longer than I thought, mostly because Mrs. Irwin and Mrs. Lindsey

wanted to talk about Hannah and the baby; about whether Crane was getting serious about Lila;

about whether Ford should change his major at college; and about how long Daniel's hair had

likely gotten by now.

I assured them that the entire family was eagerly awaiting the arrival of Ivan Iggy, and when

reminded that Guthrie and I would have to 'pitch in' and help a lot more, I respectfully

told them that we were both prepared to do just that.

I admitted that I couldn't speak for Crane, as to his seriousness about Lila. When pressed,

I said that yes, Adam and Hannah seemed to like Lila.

I told them Ford had a double major, and that if he couldn't get a teaching job right after

finishing college, that he could fall back on his alternate major in business.

I predicted that yes, it was likely that Daniel had let his hair grow since he'd been

home last time. I commented that Daniel claimed no one but Hannah could cut his hair

the way he liked.

Finally, after we'd locked up the church, and they'd both gotten into Mrs. Lindsey's

ancient Studebaker, I went back to the vet office.

Out back, there was already a trailer backed up to the barn, and a ranch hand and

Mr. Clark were leading horses out of the trailer. Reagan, predictably, wasn't doing a whole

lot. She was leaning against the truck, and mostly just watching, from what I could tell.

I had a few uncomplimentary thoughts about her run thru my mind, and when she

gave me a cursory look, and said, "Harlie," as a greeting, I returned with

an equally terse, "Reagan".

"Daniel going to be coming for a visit soon?" she asked me.

There was no way I was going to give this snot-nosed girl any information about

Daniel. I thought if Daniel even considered dating her, that I would stand in front of the truck

so he couldn't move. I would even, I thought recklessly, feed him strawberries, which he's

allergic to, and make his face swell up. I'll bet Reagan wouldn't think he was so good looking then.

"Is he?" she prompted.

"What?" I asked vaguely.

"Dan-yall," she drew out, as if she was talking to a dimwit, or a non-English speaking

person. "Is he coming home soon?"

I gave her what I hoped was an intimidating stare. "When he does, he's going to be busy. So,

if you have any plans about him, you should go on to Plan B."

Instead of looking insulted, Reagan actually gave a little laugh. "Oh, really?"

"Yes. Really."

"Well, I think Daniel can make his own decision, don't you, Harlie? You shouldn't

try to control everything your brothers do."

She smiled condescendingly, and pushed herself away from the truck, and went

towards the barn.

I held the reins of the four horses while Doc G gave them their shots. When that was finished, the

horses were loaded once again into the horse trailer.

Doc G was standing, talking with Mr. Clark, and then he asked Reagan how her horse Malachi

was doing.

Reagan shrugged. "He's still too slow."

"I meant how is his leg doing?" Doc G clarified.

Another shrug from her. "He's alright."

I knew Doc G well enough to see his jaw tighten, and I could tell he was irritated.

"Is he still favoring the leg?" I spoke up.

Reagan gave me a look that suggested that I bored her.

"Sometimes," she said.

"Then why would you make him compete?" I demanded, incredulous at her insensitivity.

"What I do with my horse is my concern, Harlie," she said loftily. "You really should learn

to mind your own business. First you mind Daniel's business, and now mine."

I ignored her comment, and said, in what I considered to be a reasonable

fashion, "If he's so slow, why don't you use another horse for your shows?"

"Because Malachi is the one people come to see," Reagan stated. She was starting to

look really irritated.

I knew about the shows Reagan and her teammates did. They travel all around, and

ride in parades and grand entries, and most of the horses can do some sort of fancy stepping

or tricks.

"That's a stupid reason," I said, without thinking. "And besides, doesn't your sparkle team

promote animal rights? How is it going along with that when you force a horse to perform

in pain?"

Reagan's eyes narrowed. I knew I was correct about her group having animal rights as

one of their causes. But, since I was basically accusing her of throwing that to the wind by

making her horse prance around in pain, I figured she was getting ready to lamblast me.

I was ready for that. I wasn't ready for what she did focus on.

"We are not a 'sparkle' team," she informed me, with the dignity of a queen talking to a

peasant girl. "We give entertainment to a lot of people, who travel a long ways to see us.

They're our fans. Of course, I wouldn't expect you to understand anything as important as

that."

"Putting on a Las Vegas outfit doesn't make you a cowgirl," I informed.

"I think you're just jealous because you wish you were talented enough to perform with us,"

Reagan intoned.

"It seems to me that your horse is the one with the talent," I said insultingly.

"I've often wondered, Harlie, how that horse of yours walks without falling over," Reagan retaliated.

Her tone suggested that I, and also Petra, were one step above nothing. I narrowed my eyes in return, and

prepared to do battle. I was set to deliver a scathing reply about cruelty to animals by

someone like her, who thought wearing glittery outfits made her a star.

I hadn't noticed, and apparently Reagan hadn't either, that Doc G, Mr. Clark, and Ray, the

ranch hand, were all still standing nearby, and listening to our heated exchange.

I had my next harsh words formed and ready to deliver to Reagan, when I heard

Doc G speak up. "Harlie Mac."

It wasn't much, but his tone got my attention. I turned to look at him.

"That's enough," he said, firmly, his blue eyes pinned on me.

I wanted to protest, but the look on his face made me pause.

"Go in and handle the phone messages," Doc G said, with quiet authority.

After another look at his face, I turned, without saying anything more, and obeyed him,

going back into the building and to the front. I found I was shaking with temper.

A small part of me was grumbling as well. Why did Doc G call me out, when Reagan's

own father was standing there, and said nothing at all to her?

I grumbled to myself as I cleaned and swept the front office, and took a couple of

phone calls. As I thought it over, I realized that I shouldn't have gotten in a fuss with Reagan

like that. It was Doc G's place of business, after all. And I knew he did a lot of work

for Mr. Clark. As an employee at the vet office, I shouldn't have let my personal feelings

take over.

I was standing on a chair, dusting the high shelves where Doc G keeps some of his

medical journals, when he came thru from the back.

"Don't fall off that chair," he instructed me.

"I won't," I told him, and then pointed at the desk where I'd written down the messages.

"There's the calls that came in."

Doc G picked up the paper, and read it over, and then laid it back on the desk.

"Nothing too urgent," he said, and stood, looking at me.

"How about a bite to eat at Marie's before I run you home?" he offered.

"Okay," I agreed, and hopped down from the chair. I tossed the dusty rag in the laundry

basket that Doc throws his dirty towels in. The ones he uses for wiping up mud, or blood,

or whatever else comes into the office.

Doc G locked the door behind us, and we walked the familiar walk over to Marie's café.

Once inside, Doc G went to claim a booth, while I told him I was going to wash my hands.

When I came back out, Marie was standing there talking to him.

"Hi, honey girl," she greeted me, as I slid into my side of the booth.

"Hi."

"I thought there was a real nice turnout for Hannah's baby shower, didn't you?" she asked me.

I agreed that there had been.

"I think they should have near about everything they need now, don't they?"

"I think so," I agreed. "Hannah said they'll pass it all on to Clare and Brian. Brian

looked scared to death when she said that."

"I'll bet he did," Marie laughed.

Doc G ordered a tenderloin with French fries, and then looked across the table at me, expectantly.

"What'll you have?" he asked me.

"I'll have a hamburger," I told Marie. "And a Coke," I added off-handedly.

"Hamburger and a glass of milk," she said, scribbling on her order pad. "Gotcha." She gave me

a wink and walked towards the kitchen.

Like I've always said, Marie is the closest thing to a grandma that Guthrie and I have. I

know I should quit trying to order a Coke when I'm there, but I think she likes looking

out for me sometimes, especially with my diabetes.

I'm never surprised when she substitutes milk for Coke. It's become sort of a joke between us.

As we sat, waiting for our orders, Doc G was quiet. I studied him across the table,

as I fiddled with a straw wrapper, and I started to worry that he was so quiet because

he was upset at me.

"I'm sorry I got into it with Reagan like I did," I said.

"She really gets you stirred up, doesn't she?" he returned.

"Yeah. She does," I admitted.

I hesitated, "Are you mad at me because I argued with her?" I asked him, dreading his answer.

Doc G looked at me, seemingly surprised. "No, lass. I'm not."

"Alright," I said, relieved.

"You were speaking the truth to her. No shame in that." He reached across the table and tugged on the

end of one of my braids. "I put a stop to the squabble because I thought it had gone far enough," he added. "Don't you?"

I squirmed a little in my seat, uncomfortable under that intent gaze.

"Yes, sir," I admitted.

"I will say that your temper seems to get the best of you at times," he continued.

I nodded, folding the straw wrapper in half, then in fourths, then in eighths.

"Your good qualities far outshine your bad ones, though," Doc G said. "So I think

you'll turn out alright."

There was a sparkle in his blue eyes, and I felt better.

"I'm glad you're not mad at me," I admitted. "I think I'd feel really bad if you ever were."

"I'll make a deal with you, lass," he said.

"What?" I asked him curiously.

"If I ever have cause to be angry with you, you'll know it. And you'll know why I am, as well. Alright?"

I nodded, and gave him a small smile. "Yes, sir."

7

Our house began to look like a baby nursery. Adam spent all one evening working on setting up

the baby crib, with Guthrie's help. One complete corner of Adam and Hannah's bedroom was

designated as the baby's space.

I curled up cross-legged on Hannah's bed one evening, watching as she sorted and folded baby

clothes, putting them in the dresser that Crane had found at a flea market in Sonoma. Hannah, with

Clare's help, had stripped it and repainted it, so that now it was a canary yellow color, with gray trim.

Good for a boy, or a girl, Hannah said.

"I like this one," I said, holding up a white onesie with the words "I'm new to the family" on it.

"It's cute," Hannah agreed, and then giggled a little. "Let me show you something," she said,

and pulled a pink, ruffled dress out of one of the sacks, and sat down beside me on the bed.

"Look what Clare and I found when we were in Sacramento," she said, and held up the dress.

"Oh, it's so cute!" I reached out to touch the ruffles.

"I know it was silly to buy it, but I just couldn't resist. If the baby's a boy, we can give it to

someone as a baby gift, or save it for Clare and Brian."

We were so intent on our conversation that neither one of us heard Adam until he

said, "You're not dressing my son in that."

Hannah looked up guiltily, to see him standing there in the doorway.

"Hi, hon," she said.

"Hi, yourself," Adam answered. He came on into the bedroom, and surveyed both of us

with a mock-stern expression. "What's going on here?"

"Just preparing for either outcome," Hannah said, smiling at him.

"Uh huh," Adam said drily.

I laughed as I scrambled off of the bed. "I'm with Adam on this one," I said, as I went to

the door. "The baby's a boy. And he would look pretty funny in that dress."

"Traitor," Hannah teased, and I laughed again.

7

On the Tuesday of the week that Christmas break was to begin, I was reminded of the

school Christmas dance. I'd forgotten about it, until I saw the posters tacked up around the school

reminding students to buy tickets. I remembered the time months ago when Tony had asked me if

I'd go with him to the dance. I hoped that he would forget, and then I felt badly because I wished for that.

As school was dismissing for the day, I was at my locker, gathering up books that I would need

for my homework. Kenny Harris, another boy from Guthrie's class, stopped and leaned against the

locker next to mine.

"Hey, Harlie," he greeted me.

"Hi, Kenny."

"How are things with you?"

"Good," I told him. "Busy."

"Yeah." He smiled at me. "Would you go to the Christmas dance with me?"

Well, I was surprised. I hesitated, and Kenny said, "You already got a date?"

I wasn't sure how to answer that, so I settled for a short version of the truth.

"Well, somebody asked me to go, but I think I'll just stay home. There's a lot going on

and I just need to be with the family. You know?"

"Sure. That's okay. Maybe we can take in a movie over the break?" he asked.

"Okay," I said.

As Kenny ambled away down the hallway, I reached for my science book, and slammed my locker

shut.

"Hi, Harlie," Tony said, from right behind me, and I jumped.

"You scared me," I told him.

"Sorry."

"It's alright."

"I've been intending to call you, but I've been working a lot of extra hours at the shop."

"Oh, I understand. I've been busy, too." I wondered how best to tell him I no longer wanted to

go to the dance.

It looked like Tony was winding up to say something more, and I seized upon the fact that

Guthrie was at the end of the hallway, motioning to me to hurry up.

"Guthrie wants me," I said, relieved. "I'll talk to you later."

"Okay," Tony said, and I made my escape.

As we drove home, Guthrie asked if I wanted to stop at the Dari Kurl.

"I better not," I said, with regret.

"You could have a slushy or something. That would be alright, wouldn't it?"

"You can," I told him. "But I better not."

"That's alright," Guthrie said, driving on past the Dari Kurl, the parking lot habitated by

teenagers.

Seeing Kenny, sitting there on the hood of his pickup, talking to some other kids, I

gave Guthrie a side-long glance.

"So, guess what?" I broached the subject.

"What?"

I figured there as a chance that Guthrie already knew about Kenny, since it's fairly common

for boys to talk to him before they ask me out. Guthrie's popular, and well-liked at school, and

most boys don't seem to want to get on his bad side.

"Kenny asked me to go to the Christmas dance with him."

"Yeah? Well, what'd you tell him?"

"I told him that somebody else had asked me."

Guthrie nodded in obvious approval.

I searched for the next words. "I don't think I'll go, though."

Guthrie snapped the gum in his mouth. "Didn't you tell Tony you'd go with him?"

He knew perfectly well that I had. I tried to push back my irritation.

"Yes, Guthrie," I sighed.

He gave me a look, as if to say, 'Then what's the problem?'

"With the baby coming, and Daniel coming home, and work and everything, I just don't

really want to go," I told him.

"Hmmm," Guthrie said, noncommittedly, but I could tell from his profile that he

didn't approve.

"What?" I demanded.

"I just think, you told Tony you would go with him. It's not right to do him like that."

"He can ask somebody else," I pointed out.

"Pretty short notice to do that," Guthrie maintained. "And besides, he really likes you."

I had to bite my lip to keep from getting snarky with Guthrie. I settled for a shrug,

and started reading the new novel assigned for English, so as to avoid any further

disagreement, and Guthrie, apparently getting the hint, turned on the radio, and we drove the rest of the way home in silence.

At home we went into the house, said hello to Hannah, and changed our clothes. Guthrie, as

was his usual after-school custom, raided the kitchen, looking for a snack. Hannah, also

as usual, had a snack waiting on the table. Oatmeal raisin cookies fresh from the oven.

He went out to do his chores, his hands full of cookies. Hannah gestured to a chair

at the kitchen table. "Sit down and talk to me a minute," she said.

When I'd sat down, she said, "You can have a cookie. One won't hurt you. Or there's some

strawberry shortcake."

I reached for an apple from the fruit bowl. "This is okay," I said.

"I'm proud of you, sweetie. You're doing so well, watching what you eat."

"Thanks. I just don't want to feel bad. It's not worth it."

Hannah asked me about school, and we talked for a while. Adam came in, pulling off his gloves,

and helping himself to a cookie.

"Good," he told Hannah, and she smiled at him.

"Not as good as molasses cookies, though. Right?" she teased him.

"Right," he agreed. "Did you rest this afternoon?" he asked her.

"Yes, hon. I rested."

"With your feet up?" he continued.

"Yes, Adam," Hannah said, with an eye roll.

"Okay. How are you, sugar?" he turned to me.

"I'm good."

"Better get to your chores," he said.

I stood up, scooting in the chair. I went out, as Adam was running his hand over Hannah's hair,

the expression on his face full of love.

7777777


	15. Cruel to be kind

After supper I searched out Evan, and found him in the barn, brushing Diablo.

"Is he okay?" I asked.

"Yeah. He just seems to be off his feed a little."

I sat crosslegged on a nearby hay bale, watching as he brushed Diablo's coat until it

was shiny.

"Can I ask you something?" I eventually spoke up.

"Sure."

"What's the best way to tell a boy you don't want to go out with him? Without hurting his

feelings, I mean?"

"An ass, or a nice guy?" Evan inquired. "Because if he's an ass, you just tell him to take a flying leap."

"No. A nice guy."

"That's a little tougher," he said.

"I thought you might know what would make you feel less hurt, being a guy and everything."

"So you think a lot of girls have dumped me and ran, huh?" Evan said, with a small smile.

I knew he was teasing, and I shook my head, not amused.

"This is serious, Ev."

Evan sobered up. "Okay. I'm sorry." He looked thoughtful, pausing with the currycomb in his

hand. "Why don't you want to go out with this guy? Is it Tony?"

"Yes. It's Tony. I just-" I hesitated. "I just don't think of him that way. As a boyfriend. Clare

said to go out with him, and have fun, and not worry about it. But I don't think that's

working, because he really likes me. And as more than a friend."

Evan came over and sat down beside me on the bale of hay.

"Yeah. Sometimes drawin' it out, that's more cruel to do than endin' it quick."

"What can I say so he knows how I feel?"

"How about the truth?" he asked.

I blinked at Evan. "You mean just tell him? Straight out?"

"Well, yeah."

"But I don't want to hurt him. He's nice-"

"Sometimes there's no way to do somethin' like this without hurtin' somebody. You can do it

without bein' hateful. It still might hurt, but it's more honest. It's like bein' cruel, in

order to be kind."

I nodded, thinking.

"It's not a good idea to play games with guys, and pretend to like them if you don't. A lot of

girls do that, lead guys on, to get what they can out of them, when their feelings aren't really

there," Evan said.

"I know a lot of girls at school like that," I agreed.

"Yeah. Those girls are everywhere. Don't be like that. Okay?"

"Okay."

"So, anyway," Evan said. "That's my two cents." He got up and went around to the other

side of Diablo, and began brushing.

I stood up, brushing the hay off the seat of my jeans. "Thanks, Ev," I told him.

"You're welcome. Hope I helped."

I didn't know how helpful Evan's blunt advice would be, but I did give it some thought. I worked

up my courage later that night, looked up Tony's phone number, and called his house.

I kept my voice low, so that those in the living room wouldn't hear me.

When a woman answered the phone, I asked for Tony.

The woman, who I assumed to be his mother, said that Tony wasn't home.

"Would you have him call me back, please? This is Harlie McFadden."

"Oh," the woman said, sounding pleased. "Of course, dear, as soon as he comes in."

Her being so nice to me made me feel worse. I sighed, and went over to join everybody else

in the living room. I sat down beside Crane, curling up next to him, and listened as the conversation

flowed around me. Baby talk, Christmas talk, Daniel and Ford coming home talk.

It wasn't much time at all, until the phone rang. I moved as quick as I could to get to it

first, but Guthrie was closer, and faster.

I got there as he was saying, "Hullo?"

Then, "Hey, Tony!" Guthrie said, with a wide grin.

I tried my darndest to take the phone from him, but Guthrie twisted out of my reach.

"Yeah, she's standin' right here beside me," Guthrie went on, obviously talking about me. He grinned

at me, his eyes full of mischief. "I think she really wants to talk to you."

I gave Guthrie a punch in his stomach that made him groan, and turn loose of the phone.

I held the phone up to my ear, and Guthrie went behind me, giving one of my curls an almost-painful

tug.

"Hello," I said, slapping at his hand.

"Hi, Harlie!"

Tony's greeting was enthusiastic, and since he was obviously happy that I was calling him, which I'd

never done before, I thought that he was forming the wrong idea.

"Hi."

"Sorry I wasn't here when you called before. I just got in from work," Tony told me.

"That's alright. I just wanted to talk to you for a minute."

"Sure." I could hear the grin in his voice. "My mom says you sound sweet."

I cringed. "She does?"

"Yeah. I told her you don't just sound it, that you really are sweet."

Could this get any worse? "Thank you," I managed.

I remembered what Evan had said. Cruel in order to be kind.

"Umm, I wanted to tell you something. Daniel's coming home this weekend, and with work and

everything, I don't think I'll be able to go to the Christmas dance after all." I said it very fast.

And then I waited, feeling uncomfortable.

Tony didn't make me wait long. After just a second's pause, he said, "That's okay. I understand."

He didn't sound upset, and went on to say, "Maybe we can catch a movie or get a hamburger over the

break if it works out."

I hesitated. "I don't know," I said. "I think I'm going to be kind of busy."

"Oh," Tony said, then.

In that one word, I heard his voice change, and I knew understanding was registering with him.

"Do you not want to go out with me, Harlie?" he asked directly.

"Not right now," I said.

"So later on then, maybe?"

"I don't know," I said honestly. "You're really nice, and you're a good friend. I just don't think

I'm interested in dating right now."

"Dating anyone? Or just not me?"

He sounded hurt, and I didn't know what to say.

Then he recovered enough to say, "Sorry. That's none of my business."

I could hear his sigh thru the phone line.

"Thanks for letting me know, Harlie."

"Yeah. Okay," I said, and hesitated, the silence stretching between us.

"I guess I'll see you at school," he said, then.

"Okay."

"Bye, Harlie," he said, and the phone clicked in my ear.

I went thru the living room outside to the front porch.

"Harlie? You alright?" Hannah asked, as I passed by.

"I'm fine," I said, and kept walking.

I went to sit down on the front steps. It was just a few minutes and I heard the screen door

open with a squeak, and then shut with a slam.

Clare sat down beside me, nudging me with her elbow.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah." I sighed. "Growing up is so darn complicated."

"No argument there," Clare said. "It's not all rainbows and happiness when you finally do grow up, either."

"Yeah," I said.

"Yeah," Clare said.

And we sat there, watching as the sun set.

7

At school the next day, I only saw Tony a couple of times in the hallway, and never close enough

to talk to. He seemed intent to stay away from me, and, even though it was cowardly, I was okay

with that.

We gave Kristin a ride to Marie's café after school. She was going to be working over the break, as

many hours as she could get, she said. She and Guthrie wouldn't be going to the Christmas dance, either, since

she planned on working Saturday night. Guthrie, who really dislikes dances, was perfectly fine with

missing the dance. He'd only planned to go because he knew Kristin had been looking forward to it.

By the time we pulled up in front of the café, an idea was taking shape in my mind.

Guthrie got out so Kristin could slide out after him. I hopped out my side as well, and as

they were saying goodbye to each other, I turned from the door.

"I'll be right back," I told Guthrie.

"Where are you goin'?" he called after me.

"I have to talk to Marie a minute," I told him, and went inside. There were only a couple

of customers. It wasn't the dinner rush yet.

When Marie looked up from where she was serving a piece of pie to Billy Ross, her face lit up

as she saw me.

"Hullo, honey girl!" she greeted me.

"Hi," I said, smiling in return.

"What are you up to?"

I nodded outside toward where Guthrie and Kristin were standing. "We're dropping Kristin off to you."

"Oh. Well, good. How about a glass of milk and a blueberry muffin?"

"Okay," I agreed, and Marie nodded, turning to pull a muffin from under the glass case.

"How's school?" she asked then, as I scooted up onto one of the tall stools.

"Last day today. Officially Christmas break."

"Got some big plans?" she asked me.

"Wait for the baby mostly. And spend time with Daniel."

"You tell him to come see me, alright?"

"I will."

The bell over the door rang, and Guthrie and Kristin came in.

"I wanted to talk to you for a minute," I told Marie.

When Marie looked at me expectantly, I said, in a rush, "I was wondering if you needed any more

help."

Marie raised an eyebrow at me. "You're itching to add waitressing to your list of

responsibilities?"

"If you need the help, yes."

As Guthrie swung himself up onto the stool next to mine, Marie patted his hand.

"How about some pie, young man?" she asked him.

Guthrie responded with enthusiasm, and Marie set a plate with a piece of cherry pie in front

of him. As Guthrie dug in, Marie said hello to Kristin, and told her to put an apron on, and start

filling the salt and sugar containers.

Marie turned back to me. "Don't you think you have enough on your plate now, honey girl?"

I took a drink of milk, and said, "It's Christmas break, though. I have plenty of time."

"Uh huh," Marie said.

"I really need the money," I said.

"Why are you in such dire need of money?"

"To help Evan pay for the truck he has to buy."

Marie looked at me thoughtfully. "What about Doc G?"

"I'm still working for Doc. I could come here in the evenings or Saturday afternoon when I'm done

with my shift at Doc's. Whenever you need me."

Guthrie looked up from his pie. "What are you talkin' about?" he asked.

"Eat your pie, Guth," I told him.

"You're crazy-" he began.

I reached under the counter to pinch his leg, to shut him up.

"What about Adam, and Hannah? And Crane? What are they going to have to say about

this?" Marie asked. "They worry enough about your health now."

"They want me to take responsibility for what I did with the truck," I said, which was truthful.

"Well, I'm sure of that," Marie said.

Billy Ross called from the other end of the counter. "How about some more coffee, Marie?"

As Marie went to get a refill for Billy, Guthrie tapped the side of my knee.

"What are you up to now?" he hissed.

"Just trying to make some more money," I whispered back.

"You lied to Marie," Guthrie accused, in disapproval.

"It's harmless. And not really a lie."

"Not harmless. And it's like a lie, lettin' her think they won't care. They'll be mad as hell, and you know it. They don't want you workin' another job."

"I want to make things right with Evan."

"Use your money from Doc G."

"It's not enough. Hush," I told him, as Marie came back over to us.

"Well, if you want to come after you get done at Doc's on Saturday, you can help with

the lunch crowd," Marie said.

"Alright. Thanks, Marie!" I said with a smile.

We both called goodbye to Kristin, and went back out to Guthrie's truck, climbing

in, and starting for home.

"What did you get Kristin for Christmas?" I asked him.

"A necklace. What are you goin' to do when they find out what you're up to?"

"They don't have to know. Especially if you help me. You can come get me Saturday

when I get finished. What kind of a necklace is it?"

"It's a locket. Don't change the subject. I'm not gonna help you out so you overdo and

get sick."

"I won't get sick. It's only for a few shifts to make some extra money. Where did you get

it?"

"I got it at the jewelry store in Modesto. And you might get sick. Look what happened two

days ago, when you couldn't go to school because you felt so bad."

"That was because of the drinking I did Saturday night. I know now how dumb that

was. That's what made my blood sugar spike. You could have taken me along to Modesto, you know.

I could have helped you pick the necklace out."

"It was a Saturday two weeks ago. You were with Doc G. And I did just fine picking it out, thank you very much."

"Are you going to show it to me?" I asked.

"Yeah. I'll show you later."

I studied Guthrie's profile. He was looking stubborn.

"So, will you come get me Saturday when I get done?" I asked him.

"I suppose," Guthrie said, with a sigh.

"I have an idea," I said.

"Great. Another idea," Guthrie said, not sounding pleased.

"You'll like this idea," I assured him. "When you come Saturday afternoon to get me, then

you can pick Kristin up, too, and she can come home with us, and spend the night."

Guthrie nodded in resignation, and unwrapped a fresh piece of gum, popping it in his mouth.

"What about when Marie tells Hannah that you worked at the café?" Guthrie asked.

I thought that over. "I don't know. I'll think of something."

"Of course you will," Guthrie sighed.

7

There's a glorious freedom in knowing that for fifteen days you can do pretty much as you

please. Well, as much as you please, in between chores, and more chores, that is. Guthrie was

feeling the freedom, too. He walked around the house whistling.

As we sat down for supper, the topic of conversation turned to Ford, due to arrive home

on Friday, and Daniel, due anywhere between this very minute to sometime on Sunday."

"It looks like Daniel could be a little more specific about when he's arriving," Hannah

said, sounding irritable, and very un-Hannah like.

"You know how Daniel is," Brian offered. "Likes to keep things light and loose."

"And you know he'll be in dire need of a haircut, most likely," Crane said, with a smile

in Hannah's direction.

Hannah's face softened. "Most likely," she agreed.

Hannah's attention turned to me. "What are you wearing to the dance Saturday night?"

"I changed my mind about the dance," I said, and Hannah raised an eyebrow.

"You did?"

I nodded my head.

"I think you should go," Hannah continued.

"I've just got other things to do," I told her.

Hannah looked as though she was going to argue, and I looked toward Adam for

reinforcement. He took pity on me, and said, "It's up to Harlie, hon."

Hannah nodded, looking tired.

I reached over and took her hand in mine, squeezing it.

"Marie made the most amazing blueberry muffins," I told her, changing the subject.

Hannah brightened. "How is she?" she asked.

I chattered about Marie for a few minutes, and Guthrie shared that Kristin was

going to be working at the café again.

"So no dance for you, either?" Hannah asked.

"Nope," Guthrie affirmed, with a grin.

"I'm going to be in town for most of the day on Saturday," I said casually. "Doc G's

been pretty busy lately. So I won't be home at the regular time."

I felt Guthrie's elbow in my ribs, but ignored it.

Nobody said anything, or protested, so I finished by saying, "Guthrie's going to

come and get me when I'm done."

"What about tutoring?" Crane asked me.

I'd forgotten about that. I gave him a pleading look.

"It's vacation, Crane," I said. "Could I take this Saturday off? I'll bet Mrs.

Nelson would like a break, too."

Everybody started getting up, pushing in their chairs. I wasn't dish duty, so I caught

Crane's arm as he was headed to the living room with Adam.

"Is it okay? About tutoring? Please?"

"Alright," Crane said, in assent. "I'll give her a call."

I went downstairs to do some laundry, and when I'd loaded both washing machines, and headed

back upstairs, I went thru the kitchen. I cut up an apple, and put some peanut butter in a bowl

to dip the slices in.

I joined the rest of the family in the living room, where Guthrie and I's report cards

were being looked over. I'd already seen my grades, so I plopped down next to Crane,

looking at him with a confident grin.

"Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?" he asked me.

I just smiled again, and bit into a slice of apple.

I had A's, with a hard-earned C+ in algebra.

"Good job, sugar," Adam said, handing my report card to Brian.

Crane laid an arm around my shoulders, and kissed the top of my head.

"I'm proud of you," he said, against my ear.

I smiled, feeling a glow inside. It felt awfully good to see that look on

Crane's face.

"The tutoring really helped," I acknowledged.

"No doubt," he agreed. "But you're the one that did the work."

I nodded, and he squeezed my shoulders. "See what you can accomplish? You don't

need a shortcut."

I recognized the word 'shortcut' to be Crane's way of referring to the cheating I'd confessed to him

a couple months ago.

I nodded again, ducking my head a little, embarrassed.

"Right?" he asked, low, against my ear again.

"Yes, Crane," I said, looking up to meet his eyes.

"Okay."

"Maybe next quarter I'll raise it to a B," I said hopefully.

"I'll count on it," Crane said.

7

I called Doc G, and when he didn't answer, I left a message on his answering machine,

telling him that if he needed me the next day, or on Friday, that I would come in to help out.

It wasn't too long after that the phone rang, and Brian, on the way up to their attic

rooms with Clare, stopped to answer it.

He talked for a few minutes, and then hollered, "Peach! It's Doc."

I went to pick up the phone receiver.

"Hi, Doc," I said.

"Hello, Harlie Mac. I'll be by to pick you up at six-thirty in the morning. Can you be ready that early?"

"Yes-" I started to ask him what all he had planned for tomorrow, but I didn't get a

chance to say anything.

"Alright. Goodnight, lass." He hung up, in an obvious hurry.

7

I was up on time the next morning, dressed and downstairs by 5:45 a.m. I started the

coffee, fixed some oatmeal, poured milk over the top, and sat down to eat a solitary breakfast.

I was pouring myself my second cup of coffee when a scuffling of boots had me

looking toward the doorway.

"Hi," I greeted Adam.

"Morning, sugar."

"Want a cup?" I offered. "I made it strong this morning."

"Sounds good."

I poured him a cup and set it in front of him as he settled in his chair.

"Sit down and talk to me for a few minutes," Adam said. "You have time, don't you?"

I looked at the kitchen clock. 6:15. "Yeah. About 15 minutes or so."

I sat down next to him as he took a drink from his cup.

"Good?" I asked.

"Good," he affirmed. He nodded toward my Carlsbad Caverns cup.

"How many cups does that make for you this mornin'?" he asked.

"Two," I admitted.

Adam gave me a faintly disapproving lift of his eyebrow.

"You said you started drinking coffee when you were ten," I reminded him.

"That's right," he nodded.

I knew what was coming next, so I joined in, at the same time, as he stated, "And it never did me any harm."

I grinned at him as we finished the sentence together.

"Smart aleck," he said, with no real malice.

"You know how Hannah feels about it, though," he said.

"I won't tell if you don't," I said, mischieveously.

"Hmm," he said, "And you always seem to pick that cup."

"Of course," I said, with another grin. "It's the biggest cup in the cabinet."

We sipped coffee in compatible silence for a couple of minutes, and then I asked,

"Is Evan going to buy the truck that Brian told him about?"

"I don't think he's made his mind up yet about it. He'll wait for the insurance money to come before

he decides, most likely."

"Oh." I bit at my lip. "Guthrie said he only has liability insurance. Is that right?"

"Yeah. That's right."

"There'll be a difference, right? In what he gets from insurance and what he'll need?" I asked.

"More than likely," Adam agreed.

"I want to help him pay that. The difference, I mean."

"I know you do." Adam regarded me with a serious look.

"I have some money saved. I'm going to work extra for Doc G over the vacation. Even after

my Christmas shopping that I've done, I should have money to give him to help out."

Adam nodded. "Well, let's see what he hears from the insurance first."

I looked at him over the top of my cup as I swallowed another sip of coffee.

"You want me to, don't you? Make it right, I mean?"

"I do," he said, looking serious. "Not at the risk of you takin' on so much that you get sick, though."

"I'll be alright," I told him.

"I think it's admirable, what you want to do," Adam went on. "I just think you tend to jump quick,

without thinking things thru."

I wrinkled my forehead at him. "What do you mean?" I asked him.

"Well, workin' extra for Doc G, that's alright, but not every day of your Christmas break. There's going

to be things around here to do, too, you know."

"I know. I'm still planning on helping Hannah a lot," I assured him.

"And you're gonna want to spend a lot of time with Daniel, and everybody else, too," Adam

went on, as though I hadn't spoken.

It seemed like he was getting at something, but I couldn't put my finger on what it was.

"It's important to me, Adam," I said, wanting to make him understand. "I need to make it right with

Evan. You understand, don't you?"

"I don't think Evan's holding anything against you. I haven't gotten that impression from talkin' to

him, anyway. Have you?"

"No," I said honestly. "He's been nice about it. Real nice, actually. He said that the truck is

just a thing, and that me not getting hurt was what was important."

"Good for him," Adam said, looking pleased.

"But even though no one will probably trust me to ever drive their vehicle again, I still want to pay him back. I

feel all-" I hesitated, searching for the right words, "well, icky about it. And I think I'd feel better if I could

help pay."

"Alright, sugar," he said.

"Does that mean it's okay if I work as much as I can, so I can earn the money?" I asked him.

"Within reason, yeah," he told me.

He finished his coffee, and I looked up at the clock. 6:25. And since Doc G is always on time, I figured I'd

better get outside to wait for him.

"I better go," I told Adam.

"Yeah. I'll walk out with you." He refilled his coffee cup, and I waited at the kitchen door so we could walk out

together.

"Marie called last night after you were in bed," Adam said, in a casual way.

I looked up at him, nearly bumping into the coffee table.

"She did?" I asked.

"Uh huh."

We'd reached the screen door, and Adam pushed it open, gesturing for me to pass in front of him.

I went out ahead of him. I could see the dust following Doc G's truck as he headed up the road in front

of our house.

"What did she say?" I asked.

"After asking about how Hannah was, what do you think she said?"

"That I asked to work a shift," I said, biting my lip, and wondering if Adam thought I was being sneaky, trying to work more hours.

Adam leaned against a porch railing, and looked at me over the top of his coffee cup.

"Jumpin' without thinking, Harlie Marie," he said, sounding stern.

I hesitated.

"Are you mad at me?" I asked him tremulously.

"No. I'm not mad."

I sighed in relief at his answer. "Can I do it then? Work the shift for Marie?"

"Today, you can."

I leaned into him, and wrapped my arms around his waist. "Thank you for understanding," I said.

"I understand. I also said 'today'," he reminded, and raised an eyebrow at me. "Got it?"

"Got it," I said, and squeezed him, hard.

As Doc G pulled to a stop, Adam rubbed his hand over my back. "Have a good day," he told me.

"Okay." I went to scramble into Doc's truck, as he exchanged small talk with Adam for a couple of minutes.

Doc G turned to me. "Well, Harlie Mac, what do you think? Ready to get this day started?"

I grinned at his now-familiar greeting to me. "Yes, sir," I said. "I am."

7


	16. Millions of Sheep

I would have to argue with anyone who says that sheep are more intelligent than goats. I personally love my goats, and they

more than earn their keep on the ranch, because they keep the weeds and grass eaten down. Sheep, though, they're another

thing altogether. At least, in my opinion.

After we said goodbye to Adam, and were driving down the long driveway and out onto the road, I asked Doc G

where we were heading. When he told me we were going to the Ivy's to inoculate their sheep, I just nodded,

and smiled, not knowing what was coming.

I'd known that the Ivy's raised sheep. That's common knowledge, in a community like Murphys, where everybody

knows what everybody else does. But when we pulled onto the Ivy's property, and all I saw was white, white, everywhere,

baaing, well that was not what I expected.

"Holy smokes," I muttered, after I'd slid out of the truck cab, and was following Doc G towards the barn.

When he looked at me questioningly, I said, low, "There's so many of them."

"That there is," Doc G agreed.

We waded our way thru sheep to reach Mr. Ivy, who was ushering ten or so sheep into a holding pen.

The two men shook hands, and talked for a few minutes. I looked out over the sea of white.

"Is this your assistant?" Mr. Ivy asked Doc G, nodding at me.

"My right hand, she is," Doc G replied, and I smiled, pleased.

After some more conversation, Doc G told me that, while Mr. Ivy held the sheep, as Doc gave the shots,

that my job would be to release one sheep at a time from the holding pen, opening the gate and then passing

them on to Mr. Ivy. Donnie Ivy, who I thought looked like he was about ten years old now, was responsible for

herding new sheep from the pasture into the holding pen.

I took my spot on the inside of the pen, next to the gate. I reached down to pet one of the sheep, surprised at how

soft his wool was. In thanks for my affection to him, he jostled against me so hard that I fell against the gate.

I groaned, and saw Donnie grinning at me. "He's rowdy," he shared.

"He sure is," I said.

Donnie herded, I released, Mr. Ivy held, and Doc G did the shots. This went on for what seemed like forever. I wasn't

wearing a watch, or anything, so I didn't know how much time had passed. After being jostled and jerked, I was sweaty, and

my arms ached from trying to hold onto the bigger sheep.

I was glad when Donnie stopped herding, and I shoved the last sheep out of the pen into Mr. Ivy's waiting hands.

I straightened myself upright, and stretched, rubbing my back.

"Irene will have some hot coffee on," Mr. Ivy told Doc G, and Doc nodded.

"Sounds fine," he answered.

I went out thru the open gate to walk alongside Doc G, as we followed Mr. Ivy to the house, with Donnie jumping

beside us.

"You alright?" Doc G asked me, as we walked, putting a hand on one of my shoulders.

"Fine," I told him, though I was tired, and sore, and thirsty.

I heard hollering from somewhere, it sounded like a good distance away, and Mr. Ivy pointed to the hillside,

and said, "Here comes Dwayne now."

I looked and saw what looked like another sea of white being herded down the hill, flanked by the other Ivy boy, Dwayne,

and two large dogs. It looked like there must be a million more sheep.

"Oh my gosh," I muttered.

Doc G chuckled, and when I looked his way, he gave me a wink.

I subsided in silence, hoping that these sheep were just coming down the hill to visit with the other sheep members of

their families, and not needing to be inoculated.

We went on into the house. The Ivy's house is similar to our house in size. Basically, a comfortable ranch house,

well maintained, but also worn in spots and with a well loved atmosphere.

Mrs. Ivy bustled to the porch door to greet Doc G and I, shaking Doc's hand, and telling him he was looking thinner.

"I've made two kinds of pie," she announced. "Pumpkin and apple."

She told us to step onto the side porch, and get washed up, and when we'd done that, we went into the living room.

Mr. Ivy sat down in a large easy chair, and Donnie climbed onto his lap. Doc G sat down on the couch, and when I didn't

sit down right away, he patted the spot beside him.

"Sit down, lass," he told me, and I sat down next to him.

Mrs. Ivy brought a tray with cut pieces of both apple and pumpkin pie on it, and a large silver coffee pot.

"Run and get the cups, Donnie," she said.

Donnie grumbled, but he went.

"I know what kind Mr. Ivy likes, and I'm sure Doc G will want his apple, as usual," Mrs. Ivy chattered. "But which would

you like, dear?" she asked me.

I thought a minute. I would refuse the pie, but I was hungry, and besides, I thought that the pumpkin pie would be alright.

It didn't have as much sugar in it.

"Pumpkin, please," I told her.

When she'd handed me and Doc G our plates, Donnie was back with coffee cups.

Mrs. Ivy poured coffee for her husband, and Doc G, and then turned to me again.

"I'm going to get milk for Donnie. Would you like some, too?"

"Coffee's fine," I told her, and she smiled a little.

"A coffee drinker, are you?" she asked me.

"Yes, ma'm," I said.

"Harlie Mac can hold her own with coffee drinkers," Doc G spoke up, nudging me in the side. I smiled at him, and

bit into my pie. It was delicious.

While they ate, they all talked, mostly about the sheep and the weather. I discerned from the conversation

that there were fifty more sheep to be inoculated that day.

I groaned inwardly, thinking that it had sure looked to be a million of them, not fifty. But fifty was still plenty, as far as I was

concerned.

When we were done eating, and the two men had finished two cups of coffee each, Mr. Ivy and Doc G stood up

and so I did, too.

I walked along behind Doc G, as Mrs. Ivy asked me about Hannah, and when the baby was due. I answered her

questions, and thanked her for the pie.

"It's the best pumpkin pie I've had in a long time," I told her, and I meant it.

"Thank you, dear," she said, looking pleased. "I'll tell you my secret. I put a little Cool Whip into the pumpkin before

I bake it."

"Oh. I've never heard of that. I'll have to tell Hannah about it."

"You do that," she said, and patted my shoulder. "And you tell the family hello."

"I will," I promised.

"How do you like working for Doc G?" she asked, as Mr. Ivy and Doc G walked out of earshot.

"I love it."

"Well, he certainly loves having you with him," she said.

I was curious as to what Doc G might have said about me, but of course I didn't ask.

So we all went back to our respective positions again, this time with Dwayne's help. He joined me in the

holding pen, and since there wasn't really any need of both of us being in there, Doc G told me to go help

Donnie herd the sheep.

Which I did gladly, happy to have the chance to move around in the sunshine. I found Donnie to be a funny, likeable

little kid. I was struck suddenly by the thought that my mother, had she lived, might have had more

kids. Or would she would have stopped with me?

I thought then that I wouldn't have minded having had a little brother like Donnie. On the other hand, I decided

that sheep were really, really stupid. Cute, but stupid. An opinion I formed as the sheep refused to be herded, and

a couple of them ran over the top of me, as I tumbled to the ground while chasing them.

By the time we were done, I asked Donnie, who was wearing a Scooby Doo watch, what time it was, and he

cheerfully announced that it was nearly 11:00. He began telling me how he was going to go fishing that

afternoon. When I told him that sounded like a lot of fun, he said, "You like to fish?"

"I love to fish. My brother and I go whenever we can."

"You want to go with me today?" he asked hopefully.

I hated to tell the kid no. He looked so eager, and he was so sweet.

"I can't, Donnie," I told him. "I still have to work. But thanks for asking me."

"Sure," he said, in seeming good nature. "Maybe you can another day, huh?"

"Maybe," I said, not committing myself, and that seemed to satisfy him. He punched my arm in farewell, and tore

off, telling his father he was going to fetch his fishing pole.

As Doc G and I were driving away from the Ivy's he asked me if I was tired.

"I'm alright," I answered automatically.

"I know you're alright. I asked if you were tired," he said.

He sounded gruff, but I was used to that by now, and I knew he meant nothing by it. I understood that under that gruff tone,

there was genuine concern and affection.

"I am tired," I admitted. "But that coffee helped."

"Good and strong, wasn't it?" he said.

"It was," I agreed.

"I saw the tumble you took while you were running after the sheep," he told me.

"I'll bet I looked really ungraceful, huh?"

He chuckled. "You did rather bounce, lass."

"Should you have eaten the pie?" he asked me then, his way to inquire about my diabetes.

"That's why I ate the pumpkin," I told him. "Less sugar than the apple."

"Ah," he said, nodding.

He gave me a sideways glance. "Not to say that I wasn't glad to see you eating. I was. You don't eat nearly enough."

"If we go to lunch at Marie's, I promise I'll eat. I'm actually still hungry," I told him.

"Alright. Then after lunch, I expect you'll be ready to head home and get a hot bath to soak your muscles."

"That sounds awfully nice," I said, and sighed. "But I'm staying in town today. I'm going to help Marie with the lunch crowd."

"Oh?" he asked.

His voice sounded puzzled.

"I want to make some extra money over the Christmas break," I explained. "So I can pay Evan back."

"Evan's insisting on that, is he?" Doc G asked. He was familiar with my reasons, since he'd heard about my mishap with Evan's

truck.

"No, not at all," I said quickly. "Evan's been great about it. It's just that I think I'd feel better if I could. You know what I

mean?"

"I do," he said.

After that, we didn't talk anymore until we reached Murphys and Doc G parked in front of the café. I grabbed my backpack

that I'd packed with clean jeans and a shirt.

Doc G ushered me inside, and we both went to wash up, and then, since our regular booth was already occupied,

we sat near the back, at a table.

Kristin waved at me from across the room. I waved back, as Marie came over to talk to us, bringing a cup and a pot of coffee.

She patted Doc G's shoulder. "What have you two been up to today?" she asked.

"We've been at the Ivy's," Doc told her, and Marie wrinkled her nose.

"I thought I smelled sheep," she teased him.

"Just pour the coffee," Doc said.

"Are you ready for waitressing?" Marie asked me.

"I'm ready," I said. I patted the backpack hanging on the back of my chair. "I brought some clean clothes to change

into before I start."

"Alright, honey girl. You two want a couple of the specials today? Baked salmon and carrot coins, with homemade rolls."

We both said that was alright, and Marie bustled away.

Doc G took a drink of his just-poured coffee.

Then he reached into his back pocket for his wallet, pulled out some money and laid it on the table in front

of me. "There you go, before I forget to pay you for today," he said.

"Thank you," I said, and then, paying closer attention to the bills, I picked them up. Instead of the usual two 10's and a 5,

there were three 10's, and a 5.

I picked up the extra ten dollar bill, and held it out to him. "Here. You gave me too much."

Doc G waved a hand at me. "That's yours, lass."

"Oh. Well, thank you." I studied him across the table. "But you don't have to pay me any extra, just because

I bounced like a rubber ball. I don't expect hazard pay, or anything." I smiled at him.

"I think it's up to me what I pay my best girl," he said, sounding gruff again. "As of today, you make seven bucks

an hour, instead of five."

For a moment, I felt a lump in my throat, partly at him calling me his 'best girl'.

Then a thought occurred to me. "Is it because of what I told you about wanting to pay Evan back? Because I didn't mean

you don't pay me enough, or anything like that-"

"I didn't think you meant anything like that at all. You've worked for me for awhile now." He looked at me

questioningly. "How long is it? I'm not good with dates."

"A little over two months," I told him.

"That long?" he asked, teasing. "Well, then it's high time you had a raise in pay."

I closed my hand around the money, and looked at him, seriously.

"Thank you."

He looked back, just as seriously, at me. "You're welcome. Just keep doing the job you've been doing for me, and

I'll have no complaints. Alright?"

"Yes, sir," I said.

7

After Doc G had eaten and left, I went to change my clothes. When I came back out, Marie handed me an apron, and an order

pad and pencil.

"Go to it," she told me.

For the next two hours Kristin and I were kept hopping, as the door seemed to revolve constantly, with people

coming and going. I wasn't nearly as fast or precise as Kristin, but I tried reminding myself that she'd had a lot more experience

than I had at waitressing. I got a couple of orders mixed up, but everyone was nice about it. Besides that, I had no major mishaps,

except for my hairclip falling into Denny Peterson's plate of spaghetti. A thing that I thought could happen to anyone, but which

seemed to flip him out quite a bit.

It was near two o'clock, and I'd gone into the back room to get some more salad dressing. Kristin came to the door

and called back to me.

"Harlie, come and take table five's order, okay?"

I was dragging, and had no problem in admitting it to her.

"You can do it if you want," I told her. "More tips for you."

"Oh, I don't know," she said, sounding smug. "I think these guys will leave you a much better tip than they would

me."

"What are you talking about?" I asked her, puzzled.

"Just go see," she said, taking the salad dressing from my hand, and giving me a shove. So, with Kristin behind me,

pushing me, I went out, pulling my order pad out of my apron pocket as I walked toward table five.

I was halfway across the room, when I looked to see who the occupants of table five were, that Kristin thought were

supposedly going to tip me so well.

When I did, my heart leaped in happiness, as I looked into Daniel's laughing face.

He stood up beside the table he was sharing with Guthrie and Crane.

"Hey, squirt!" he said,

"Hi, Daniel!" I said, and made quick work of the space between us. I couldn't launch myself at him like

I normally would have, if we'd been in a more private setting. I settled for hugging him, hard.

"I'm so glad you're here," I told him, stepping back to look up at him, but still holding on.

"Me, too." He surveyed me with a satisfied eye. "You look good. Real pretty."

"You look pretty, too," I told him.

"You're not as skinny as you were. I'm glad."

"Yeah. I'm a regular Porky Pig now," I grinned at him.

"You've got a long way to go to be Porky Pig," Daniel said. "So I hear you've added waitressing along with your vet job."

I shook my head. "I don't think I'm very talented at this particular job."

"Well, who do we talk to so we can get some service around here?" Crane asked, grinning.

"Yeah," Guthrie chimed in. "I'm starving."

Daniel laughed and sat back down in his chair.

"Okay," I said, pulling out my order pad and pencil. "What would you gentlemen like to order today?" I asked, in a brightly

fake waitress voice.

"What are your recommendations?" Daniel asked, his eyes lit up teasingly.

"How about some nice, juicy strawberries?" I asked him, teasing in return, since Daniel is allergic to strawberries.

"No, thanks. I don't care to spend the evening in the hospital emergency room," Daniel returned. "I'll have a

piece of cherry pie."

"Same for me," Crane said.

"And me," Guthrie echoed.

"Okay," I said, pretending to write. "Three plates of spinach coming right up."

Daniel aimed a smack at my rear end as I walked away, giggling.

I carried two plates of cherry pie to the table, followed by Kristin, who carried the third one. Since the crowd was thinning down,

Kristin scooted a chair up next to Guthrie, and I squeezed one in beside Daniel.

Marie came over, standing to visit for a few minutes.

"You two girls are free to go whenever you want," she told Kristin and I.

Marie rubbed my shoulder. "Thanks for your help, honey girl." She pulled a ten dollar bill out of her apron pocket

and handed it to me. "You did fine."

"I don't think Denny Peterson would agree with that," I said wryly.

"Oh, fiddle. He's an old grouch. You pay him no mind."

"Thanks, Marie," I said, standing and giving her a hug.

As all three of the guys stood up, and began scooting the chairs to the table, Marie patted Daniel's cheek.

"I'd like to see you more than just today," she told him.

"I'll be by, I promise," Daniel said.

"You needing a ride home, Kris-10?" Crane asked Kristin.

"Kristin's coming home with us," I informed Crane.

"God help us," Crane said, with mock horror. "Two teenage girls in the house!"

Kristin giggled, and Crane smiled at her, hooking his arm around her neck.

The Jeep was parked outside, and we all crowded in, with Crane driving, and Daniel in the front seat beside him.

The three of us climbed in the back seat, Kristin in the middle between Guthrie and I. It was a fun ride home,

with everybody laughing and talking, or hollering more like, with the wind making it hard to hear each other.

I was feeling like I had my second wind, having consumed two cups of coffee while at Marie's.

When we got home, Adam and Brian walked over to greet us, and we all walked into the house together.

"Now we just need Ford to get home, to be all together," Adam said, sounding satisfied.

"Papa wants all his little chicks under one roof," Brian said jokingly.

"You want the same thing, and you know it," Adam told him, unperturbed.

I went in search of Hannah, Kristin tagging along with me. We found her resting in her room, sitting on the bed, with

her feet stretched out.

She greeted both of us, looking tired. Kristin leaned down to hug her, and Hannah said, "I'm glad you could come over."

"Thanks."

"How's your mother?" Hannah asked.

"She's alright. About the same as usual," Kristin said.

Guthrie's voice came from the bottom of the stairs, calling for Kristin.

"I think we're going riding," Kristin said.

Hannah nodded, and I said, "See you later."

"You want to go?" Kristin asked me.

"No, thanks," I told her. I crawled onto the bed, and curled up beside Hannah.

After Kristin had gone, Hannah and I sat in silence for a few minutes, while she smoothed my hair with her hand,

and I kept my hand on her stomach, waiting for the baby to move.

"Tell me about your day," she told me.

So I told her about the sheep at the Ivy's, And how cute little Donnie Ivy was.

"And how was it at Marie's?" she asked.

"It was alright. I don't think I'm cut out to be a waitress, though." I told her about the hair clip, and how put out Denny Peterson

got at me.

Hannah laughed a little. "I'm sure he'll get over it."

I almost drifted off to sleep, leaning against Hannah's shoulder. I heard Hannah say, "Shh. She's really tired."

"I figured she would be after the day she put in," Adam said.

I opened my eyes. "I'm not asleep."

"Why don't you go soak in the bathtub?" Hannah suggested.

"I will later, maybe. I want to go see what Daniel's doing."

"They're deciding what to have for supper," Adam volunteered.

"What're the suggestions so far?" Hannah asked.

"I think pizza is the frontrunner," Adam said.

I scrambled off the bed, intent on heading downstairs.

"Hey," Adam said, reaching out to catch me by the hand.

When I looked at him expectantly, he said, "I know you want to hang out with Daniel, and Kristin, too, but there's time

for that tomorrow. I want you in bed early tonight."

"I had a little catnap. I'm fine, now," I told him.

"I mean it," he said, sounding really stern.

I looked at him, measuring him up. He did indeed, mean it.

"Okay," I agreed.

I went to my bedroom, changing to a pair of Daisy Dukes, and an old t-shirt spattered with paint, from when Guthrie and I

painted the front steps.

I went downstairs, finding Daniel, Crane, Evan and Brian sitting and talking in the living room.

I squeezed into the empty spot between Daniel and Evan.

They all went on talking, ranch stuff mostly, and I stayed quiet, until Daniel gave my knee a poke and said, "Pizza sound alright tonight?"

"It sounds great," I agreed.

In the midst of the time we sat there, Clare arrived home, greeting Daniel with a hug.

When Daniel and Evan decided to leave to go get the pizzas, Daniel thumped my leg again. "You ridin' along, squirt?"

I said that I was, and when I stood up, he told me to go change my shorts.

I gave him an entreating look, and he said, "You don't wear those to town, do you?"

Brian answered for me. "Hell, no, she doesn't."

"You guys are old-fashioned," I said, and went upstairs to change my shorts back to jeans.

Daniel drove this time, with Evan next to him, and me in the back seat of the Jeep.

When we got to the pizzeria, it was crowded, and there were a lot of people wanting to say hello and talk to Daniel. We

got the pizzas, and after Daniel paid for them, we started out, but Daniel was stopped yet again. Evan and I took the four pizzas

and went on outside.

I scrambled up in the Jeep, setting my two pizzas down on the seat beside me. Evan turned from the front seat to

hand me the other two. "Put these back there," he told me.

After I'd set those two on top of the other two boxes, I leaned forward a little in the seat.

"Have you heard anything from the insurance yet?" I asked him.

"I talked to them today again."

"What did they say?"

"They should be cuttin' a check the first of the week."

"Oh," I said. "That's good."

"Yep," he said, but offered nothing more.

"Is it a lot or not much?" I asked, feeling as if I was having to yank the facts from him.

"They think it'll be around a thousand dollars."

"Oh. Are you still thinking about that truck that Brian told you about?"

"Yeah. Maybe. It seems like a decent truck."

"How much do they want for it?" I asked then.

Evan turned around to face me. "Harlie," he said, "Stop worrying about it. I told you-"

"I know what you told me," I interrupted.

"Then why do you keep askin' me about it?"

"It's important to me."

He turned back towards the pizzeria again, and then waved at someone he knew that was coming out.

"I made fifty-five dollars today," I told him.

Evan whistled, looking back at me again. "Wow. That's great, Har."

"I'm working extra over the break, so I can help pay the difference on your new truck."

Evan twisted so that he was facing me again. "When you get an idea in your head, you're like a dog with a bone," he accused

me.

I was fairly certain that I knew how he meant that.

"Thank you," I said.

"I didn't mean it as a compliment," he informed me.

"I know," I said. "I was being sarcastic."

"Don't start with the sassy stuff. I'm not in the mood."

I ignored the warning in his voice, and said, "I'm not in the mood, either."

"Harlie-"

I sighed and slumped back in the seat, suddenly feeling tired from my day.

"I'm sorry," I apologized. "I just want to do what's right. It's not fair that you have to pay for my mistake."

Evan sighed, too. He hesitated a minute and then said, "Stan wants thirteen-fifty for the truck."

I watched him, wondering where he was going with the comment.

"After the thousand from the insurance, that leaves three-fifty. How about you pay part of that?" he offered.

I nodded. "Yes. Okay. How much?"

"You could pay half. Or less if you can't swing that."

"Half would be a hundred seventy-five?" I asked, thinking, as Daniel came out and climbed into the driver's seat of the Jeep.

"Sorry," he apologized. "Took awhile to talk to everybody."

"Your adoring public," Evan teased him.

"I'll do the half thing," I told Evan, as Daniel started the Jeep's engine, and backed out of the pizzeria parking lot.

"Okay," Evan agreed.

"What half thing?" Daniel asked curiously.

"For the new truck," I explained, when Evan didn't say anything.

"Well, that's good," Daniel said.

When both Evan and I were silent, Daniel returned to talking about everybody he'd seen that evening.

"Wow," he said, "that little Reagan Clark sure has grown up to be pretty, hasn't she?"

Evan turned to look at me, and I couldn't keep the fierce "Noooo!" that came out of my throat at the

mention of Reagan Clark.

7


	17. Afternoon Ride

Well, needless to say, Daniel was surprised by my vehement response to what he obviously thought was

an innocent comment.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, looking back towards me.

"You have to stay away from her, Daniel," I told him. "She's going to try to get her hooks into you."

"She is?" he asked, wriggling his eyebrows. "Sounds like fun."

"I mean it," I told him, but he just grinned at me, and with the wind rushing past, it was too hard to talk. I sat

back and waited until we pulled in at home, and parked. Evan held out his hands for pizza, and I handed him two,

and when Daniel did the same, I gave him the other two boxes.

I climbed out, and as we started towards the house, I said, "I'm serious about Reagan Clark, Daniel. Ask Evan.

He'll tell you about her."

I looked to Evan for support. Evan shrugged, and said, "If you're lookin' for sweet and gentle, then she's not

the right girl."

"She's a horrible person," I continued. "She mistreats her horse! She's cruel to him, and makes him perform

even when he's hurt! Doesn't she, Ev?"

Evan nodded. "She's a piece of work, alright."

"See? Evan knows what she's like!" I said triumphantly, and turned back to Daniel. "So does Doc G!"

"Okay, okay," Daniel said. "I didn't intend to start some big thing. I didn't know she was your arch enemy."

"That's not it, exactly," I said. "She's just not a good person." Evan and I exchanged a look as I said this. I finished by saying,

"You're too nice for her, Daniel."

Daniel wrapped his free arm, the one that wasn't carrying the pizzas, around my shoulders. "Well, thanks, squirt." He looked

at me, and then at Evan. "Why do I get the feeling that there's more to this Reagan Clark thing than you two are sayin'?"

Evan shrugged again, and shook his head. "Beats me," he said, and went on up the front steps ahead of Daniel and I.

"It's a long story," I told Daniel. "Maybe I'll tell you about it sometime."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Sounds interesting. How about tonight?" Daniel asked, a smile at the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, not tonight," I told him.

7

Nancy showed up shortly after that, in time to join us for pizza. When I saw her red car pull up outside, I was

genuinely glad. Ever since she and Evan had started dating, I'd liked her. But now that I knew her better, I felt

closer to her. As she came in, and everybody was saying hello to her, she smiled at me. Then, later, when we

had a chance to be alone in the kitchen, getting bottles of Coke and orange Nehi to take to the living room, she said

quietly, "I've got your boot out in my car."

I smiled at her. "Thanks. I'm really glad you found it."

"Well, it wasn't easy, I'll tell you that. You owe me, wild child."

I thought for a minute. "I can take you to lunch. Or a movie?"

Nancy looked at me, surprised. "You don't have to do that, Harlie. I was just teasing you."

"Oh." I hesitated. "What if I really wanted to, though?"

"Well, if you want to, then that's different," she said, poking me in the side.

I did my shot while in the kitchen. Nancy watched, wincing a little as I did it.

"Wow," she said. "You do that every day?"

"Every day."

"That's rough, Harlie," she said, but there was no pity in her voice. Instead, I heard what I thought was

admiration.

A moment later, as I put my supplies away, she said, "My hat's off to you, girl. You're tough."

"Thanks," I said, her words making me feel good.

I followed Nancy back into the living room, balancing the bottles of pop on the tray I was carrying. I would, I thought,

be perfectly fine with Nancy being at more family gatherings. Perhaps even on a permanent basis. I giggled a little at the

thought, and when Nancy looked at me curiously, and asked what was funny, I just shrugged,

"I was just thinking how much Evan hates getting dressed up."

"Yeah?" Nancy asked, still looking puzzled.

"He says the only two things he'll get dressed up for are a funeral. And a wedding."

7

Daniel and Crane got out their guitars after we'd eaten, and all of us did a sort of sing-along, calling out

requests. I was leaning against Clare, listening, and sometimes singing along, feeling perfectly content. If Ford were

there, it would have been a perfect family evening. I had snatched the spot next to Clare, and found myself leaning

on her more as time passed. That was all I remembered, until I felt someone jiggling my leg, and I woke up. Brian was standing in front of me,

holding out his hand. "Go on to bed, peach," he told me.

I took a sleepy look around the room. Adam and Hannah must have gone to bed. Daniel and Crane were still playing,

and singing, but softer now. Guthrie and Kristin were sitting on the end of one couch, and Evan and Nancy were sitting on

the floor, holding hands.

I took Brian's hand, and let him pull me to my feet. I waved a general good night to everybody, and they all responded

with 'goodnight' back to me, pausing in the music.

"I'll see you later, Harlie," Nancy spoke up.

And as Crane and Daniel started playing again, she made the motions of pulling on a boot, and then pointed to

Evan.

I nodded that I understood that she would give Evan my boot privately.

I went upstairs, remembering that I'd been too busy to take a shower. I could smell the odor of fried food in my hair

from the café. I forced myself to take a quick shower, and then brushed my teeth.

I was coming out of the bathroom, when Adam came out of their bedroom.

"I was just coming down to check on you," he told me, coming up beside me.

"Order me to go to bed, is what you mean," I corrected, giving him a sleepy smile.

"I'm glad to see you listened to me," he said, with mock severity.

"I always listen to you," I said, batting my eyes at him.

"Uh huh," he said dryly, and gave me a soft push towards my room. "Come on. I'll tuck you in."

We went into my bedroom, weaving our way around the cot that was set up for Kristin to sleep in.

I crawled onto my bed, and Adam started to cover me with my quilt.

"Is Hannah feeling alright?" I asked.

"She's alright. Tired. And her back hurts."

"It doesn't seem real. Just another couple of weeks, and the baby will be here," I said softly.

"I know."

I tugged at his hand. "Sit down for a minute."

Adam sat down on the edge of the bed.

"You'll be such a great dad," I told him.

"I hope so."

"I know so," I said stoutly.

Adam smiled, looking pleased. "Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, sugar."

Changing the subject, he said, "I never got a chance to ask you. How was your day? Long, wasn't it?"

"Yes. Long. But it was good."

"What did Doc have on his load today?"

"We went to the Ivy's. I didn't know they had so many sheep. Mercy!"

"How many do they have now?"

"Over a hundred. And I've come to the conclusion that sheep are basically stupid."

Adam laughed. "You think so, huh?"

"Yeah. They're cute. But stupid."

"Well, I've never had any experience with sheep, so I'll have to take your word on that."

I hesitated. "I thought I'd stay around home tomorrow. Help get the house cleaned up and all. Do laundry. So Hannah can rest."

"That'd be great. I'd appreciate it."

"Then on Saturday, I might stay the day with Doc G. He said he was going to be real busy."

"Are you tellin' me? Or asking me?" Adam asked, his eyebrow raised.

"Asking," I said. "Is it alright?"

"Saturday's alright. But not Sunday. And not every day next week."

"Okay. Doc G gave me a raise today!"

"He did?"

"Yeah. From five dollars to seven dollars an hour!"

"That's great," Adam said, looking suitably impressed. "That's darn good pay for a kid your age."

"He's such a good man," I said.

"He is. There's none better," Adam agreed.

"I'm learning so much from him." I couldn't help the yawn that came then.

Adam patted my leg. "Get to sleep," he said.

"Okay." I settled under my blankets.

"Adam?" I said, as he paused at the door.

"What?"

"Evan and I worked out a deal. I'm going to pay half of the difference."

"That's good. I'm glad. Night, sugar."

"Night, Adam."

7

When I woke up the next morning, Kristin was still sleeping, her hair spread across the pillow.

I got dressed as quietly as I could, and went into the hallway. On an impulse, I went down the hall to Crane's

bedroom, and opened the door. Crane's bed was empty, but Daniel was still asleep in the other bed, his dark

head and his feet all that were visible from his cover of blankets.

I crept closer. "Daniel?" I said, really softly.

When he didn't move, or respond, I couldn't resist. With just the barest touch from the tip of my finger, I

touched the bottom of one of his feet. He didn't move, so I did it again, just a trace longer, but still just as light.

Daniel jerked his foot, and drew it back up under the blankets.

I got down on my knees at the foot of the bed, and did the same to the other foot. He jerked again, and

muttered what sounded like an extremely bad word.

It took everything I had not to giggle at that. I covered my mouth with my hand so as not to reveal myself.

He raised up, rubbing at his eyes. I tickled his foot again, and when he jerked back, and his eyes landed

on me, I stood up, laughing.

"Good morning, Daniel," I said, in a sing-song voice.

"If I get out of this bed, you'd better run, girl," he threatened.

"You said a bad, bad word," I said, still giggling.

"I'm likely to say another," he warned.

"You're sure being grouchy to your favorite little sister," I said. "And just because I wanted to spend some

time with you-" I let my voice trail off, giving him a fake pitiful look.

"Yeah, yeah," Daniel said, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. "Is the coffee on?"

"I don't know. I haven't been downstairs yet. I can go check for you if you want."

"Comere, squirt," he said, motioning me closer. "Sit down here for a minute."

"Okay," I said, and just when I was all set to plop down next to him, I caught the glint in his eye.

"Oh, no you don't!" I said, and tried to back away.

Too late. I was still close enough for Daniel to snag my wrist, yanking me over to the bed,

and pulling me down. When he started tickling me in my ribs, I started squealing and begging him

to stop.

"No fair!" I hollered. "I only tickled you a little!"

"What is rule number 4 in the big brother rule book?" he demanded, still tickling me without mercy.

"Never touch your feet!" I yelled. "I give up!"

Daniel let go of me, and stood up, while I laid there, trying to recapture my breath.

"Get out of here so I can get dressed," he ordered.

"You're brutal," I accused him, still laying across the bed. "And I thought no touching of your feet was rule number 5, not 4."

"Smart ass. Do you need another dose?" he asked, coming towards me menacingly.

"No!" I sat up quickly, holding out my hands in surrender.

Daniel rooted around, picking up the jeans he'd worn the day before off of the floor. "I'm in the mood for waffles

this mornin'," he said casually.

I got up, and walked to the door. "I don't know who's making breakfast today."

"How about you makin' me some waffles?"

"It's not your birthday or anything," I said. "But I'll think about it."

"You owe me, squirt."

"Yeah, yeah," I said, as he tossed a shirt at me.

7

The kitchen was only partially habitated when I got downstairs. Crane was frying bacon at the stove,

while Brian and Clare sat at the table, their heads close together.

Evan was setting a plate piled high with pancakes on the table, and Guthrie was already diving into a stack of them,

covered with syrup.

I went to the coffee pot, as I exchanged good mornings to everybody.

"Is Kristin up yet?" Guthrie asked me.

"Not yet."

"Yes, I am," Kristin's voice came from the doorway. "Good morning, everybody."

Another round of greetings echoed thru the kitchen.

I went to stand beside Crane, pinching off a piece of bacon, and popping it in my mouth.

"Daniel wants waffles," I informed him.

"I made pancakes," Evan said. "That's what I made, so he'll have to settle for those."

"Harlie, get out the jelly and orange juice," Crane told me. "And Kris-10, come and take this to the table."

Kristin went to take the plate of bacon from him, and set it on the table. I rooted thru the fridge and pulled

out the strawberry jelly, and a pitcher of orange juice.

Kristin sat down on the other side of Guthrie, squeezed in between him and Clare, and I sat down, too, smothering

my pancake in peanut butter.

As everybody was talking, Adam came into the kitchen.

"Where's Hannah?" Evan asked him.

"She's tired this mornin'. She's going to rest awhile longer."

When Daniel made his entrance into the kitchen a few minutes later, he was greeted as well, though Brian began to give him a hard

time, telling him he was a 'city slicker' who 'couldn't get out of bed before noon'.

"It's not noon yet," Daniel returned, unperturbed.

"Maybe Ford will make it home today," I said hopefully.

"He has finals. It'll probably be tomorrow before he gets here," Crane said.

"I'm glad I'm finished with my finals," Clare said, with relief.

Everybody talked, and finished eating.

"Dishes," Crane told me, as I put my plate on the counter beside the sink.

I wasn't on the dish duty roster on the refrigerator, and I knew it, but Crane had apparently added mind

reading to his list of talents, because he said, "No complaints. Evan and Guthrie have other chores this morning."

"I didn't say a word," I protested.

"You were thinking it," Crane said.

"I'll help you," Kristin said cheerfully, gathering up dishes, and starting hot water running in the sink.

The kitchen cleared out, and Kristin and I did the dishes, and cleaned the table and counters.

"I'm so glad I'm here," Kristin said, handing me a washed plate to dry.

"I'm glad, too."

"I wish I could stay."

"You can. You can borrow some of my clothes," I offered.

"I don't mean just today or tomorrow. I mean-for always."

I looked at Kristin. I wasn't surprised, really, because I knew how Kristin felt about the whole family, but

she'd never said it exactly that way before.

"You really feel that way?" I asked her.

Kristin nodded.

"I'd like it too," I said. "You fit in just like you're one of us."

"Everybody makes me feel like I am."

"Even when they boss you around? Like Crane does? Or Adam?" I asked.

"I don't mind. They're not mean about it. And it makes me feel like a part of things."

Kristin gave me a sideways glance. "Mom and Frank are thinking about moving."

I felt my heart drop. "Moving where?"

"They're talking about different places. Maybe San Francisco. I even heard Frank say something about somewhere in

Nevada."

I stopped drying dishes altogether, and stared at her in horror.

"Why? What's in Nevada?"

Kristin looked back down at the dish she was washing. "Nothing that I know of. He just tells Mom that he'll be able

to find a job if they start fresh somewhere. He says Murphys is too prejudiced against him. That people gossip about

him."

I felt there was good reason for Frank to be bad-mouthed, but I didn't say that. I didn't want Kristin to feel any worse.

"Have you told Guthrie?" I asked, feeling like I wanted to cry.

Kristin shook her head. "No."

We finished the dishes in silence.

"How definite is it?" I asked.

Kristin shrugged, not looking at me, as she wiped off the cabinet. "Pretty definite, if you listen to Frank. He and Mom

are going this weekend to look around San Francisco."

When our eyes did meet, hers were full of tears, and so were mine.

"You can stay here," I promised rashly, impulsively. "I mean if they move."

Kristin looked hopeful, and then shook her head. "I couldn't."

"Why not? You mean because of your mom?"

"I'd worry about mom, but no, that's not what I mean."

"Then what do you mean?"

Kristin hung the dishtowel over the rack to dry. "I couldn't ask to stay here. I mean, the family is huge already." She looked

at me sheepishly. "You know what I mean. They have their hands full. And with the baby coming, there's more reason."

I put my hand on my hips, and stared her down. "Kristin Louise Atherton, that's just dumb. We'll talk to Adam."

"No!" Kristin looked panicked. "I mean, not yet."

"Would you mom say no?" I asked.

"I don't know for sure what she would say. She's pretty consumed with catering to Frank."

Kristin gave me a pleading look. "I didn't mean to let it slip out. I wasn't going to tell you or Guthrie yet. Just let me

see what happens first with their San Francisco trip."

"Okay," I agreed.

As we left the kitchen together, she said, "If we did talk to Adam-what do you think he'd say?"

"I don't know," I answered honestly. "I do know he'll listen, though. And he'll try to help. So will Crane."

"I know. I love Crane." Kristin blushed furiously. "You know what I mean. I don't love him, love him. He's just

really special."

"Yes. He is."

"Don't say anything to Guthrie, alright?"

I hated to make that promise. It's hard to keep things from Guthrie.

"Please, Harlie?"

"Alright," I agreed.

Kristin said she would clean the downstairs, while I did laundry, so as we separated, I said, "Let's go riding after we're done."

Kristin agreed, and I went downstairs to face the mound of laundry.

7

We packed our saddlebags with snacks, and filled canteens with water, as we set out after lunch on our horseback ride.

"Where are you two headin'?" Brian asked, as he watched us mount up.

"I thought we'd ride up to the state lake," I told him.

"That's a far ride," Brian said.

"Yeah," Adam said, resting a hand on Petra's neck, and looking up at me. "I'd rather you two didn't go that far alone."

"Alright," I sighed. "We'll take the trails up to the mine, and then come back down past the Patterson's. Is that okay?"

"Still a far piece, but alright," Adam said. "You have enough snacks to last you?"

"Yes. Plenty," I said.

"Alright, be careful," Adam said, stepping away so I could start Petra to walking.

"We will."

"And stick to the trails. No cuttin' thru the timber," Brian added.

"Yes, Bri," I said, and when we were finally on our way, and they were walking back towards the barn, I sighed.

"Mercy," I said, in complaint.

"It's sweet that they worry," Kristin told me. "You should be glad they care."

Kristin had a way of making me feel ashamed of myself. "I am glad," I said. "It's just sometimes it's hard."

"You should try having Buddy for a brother. You wouldn't complain about any of yours then."

"Wait until you move in with us full-time," I told her lightly, as if it were a definite thing. "When you have them hovering

all the time, you'll sing a different tune then."

"Yeah. I'd be singing 'Happy Days are Here Again'," Kristin informed me.

"Humphh," I huffed.

Kristin rode up even alongside of me. "Race you," she said, and before I could answer, she put Lucky into a run.

The air was brisk, and I was glad I'd worn a sweatshirt.

We made good time up the trails to the mine. When we got off to rest and eat some crackers and apples, we poked around

the front of the mine.

"Has it been closed off a long time?" Kristin asked.

"About five years or so." I picked up a stick and poked it thru the boards across the front.

"Look," Kristin said, pointing, and I came over to where she stood, and we both stooped down to look at a spot where

the board had been torn away. It was a large enough opening that a smaller person would be able to squeeze thru.

"Uh oh," I said.

"Do you think somebody's been inside?"

"It looks like it. I'll have to tell the guys. So they can board it back up."

Kristin stuck her face up against the hole. "It looks like there's a case or something."

"What do you mean, a case?"

Kristin moved out of the way, and I peered inside.

"I can't tell exactly what it is, but it's something alright," I agreed.

"Maybe it got left behind when they closed it up," Kristin suggested.

"Maybe." I tried harder to figure out what the object was. "Its pretty big. And it looks square."

"Let's tear off a couple more boards," Kristin said.

I looked at her in shock. "We'd better not," I said.

"Why not?"

"We're not supposed to mess around here at all. Brian would turn me every way but loose if he knew."

"I don't mean go in. I just mean open it enough to see what's in there," Kristin assured me.

"Well, okay," I said, and we both started pulling on the same board, trying to work it loose.

Finally it pulled loose, and we both got down on our hands and knees, crawling to the edge of the

larger hole.

"It looks like a suitcase," Kristin said, peering into the cobwebby darkness of the mine.

"I think that's what it is," I agreed.

"Why would somebody leave a suitcase in here?" Kristin wondered aloud.

"I don't know. How far in do you think it is?"

"Maybe fifty feet or so."

We exchanged looks. A look that we both understood to mean 'should we or should we not go on in?'

"We'd better not," I said again.

"Yeah, maybe not," Kristin agreed.

We got to our feet, dusting off the knees of our jeans. We mounted the horses, and started back down the hill,

discussing what could be in the suitcase.

"Gold?" Kristin suggested, with a grin.

"Not hardly. Now you sound like Guthrie did when he was little."

"Jewels? From a jewelry store heist?"

"You're crazy," I told her, laughing.

We picked our way down the hill, turning at the Peterson's property line. We were some distance from the

road ahead, when we heard a vehicle's motor.

A white truck passed by, slowly enough that I could tell that I recognized it.

"It's that guy!" I said, reining Petra in.

"What guy?"

"The one that dumped Warrior and the other pups! The one that had Pearl tied in the back!"

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive."

We picked thru the trail, coming out onto the road, in time to see the white truck turn down a road just ahead.

"Where do you think he's going?" Kristin asked.

"I don't know. That road doesn't go much of anywhere. I think there's an old house back in there."

We exchanged another look, and wordlessly reached agreement to follow the truck.

7777777


	18. The Volcano named Brian

We could still see the dust caused by the white truck as we followed.

"This is scary," Kristin said.

"We won't get very close," I promised. "I just want to see where he's going."

As the house came into sight, the white truck parked in front of it, we reined to a stop, and

went into the brush by the side of the road.

It was hard to see much from where we were, but we could hear yelling, and barking. Lots of dogs barking.

"Let's tie the horses and get closer," I whispered, and Kristin nodded.

We walked thru the woods closer to the house, where we could see the same man, the one I'd seen that day months

ago at Sugar Creek. He was throwing something to a bunch of dogs that were in a pen. It was hard to tell exactly how

many, but I knew there were way more than the amount of food he was throwing.

A fight broke out amongst the dogs over the food, and the guy yelled again, and then went into the house, slamming

the door.

"Is that him? You're sure?"

"I'm sure," I said. "I'd never be able to forget what he looks like. Or that truck, either."

"That's a lot of dogs," Kristin said.

"Those are older dogs. Listen. Hear that? Those are puppy barks."

"I don't see any puppies," Kristin said, craning her neck to see.

"Maybe they're behind the house. Come on. I know a different way," I said, pulling her along with me back to the

horses.

We rode back the way we'd come, and then up a steeper hill, that I knew went in the back way to the

house.

On top of the hill, we sat on the horses. From there we could see pens, and more pens, set up out back of the house.

They were filled to the brim with puppies. All sizes, and types, by the look of it. And all yipping.

"Holy smokes," I said.

"Yeah," Kristin agreed. "I wonder how many there are."

"What I wonder is what he's doing with all those puppies."

We exchanged a look again. Then the man came around the side of the house, yelling at the puppies at the

top of his lungs to shut up.

"What does he expect?" Kristin said indignately. "They're starving."

Petra chose that moment to whinny, and the sound carried down, and I could see the guy looking all around,

as if caught in a crime, and trying to see where the sound of a horse was coming from.

"Let's go!" I said, and we turned to go as quickly as we could.

"Do you think he saw us?" Kristin asked, when we'd galloped a good distance away, and then pulled the horses

to a stop.

"I don't think so. He was looking around the house, and I didn't see him look up towards us. I wish I'd had binoculars

with me. We could have gotten a closer look that way."

"Shouldn't we tell somebody about all those dogs?" Kristin asked.

"I will. But not yet. I want to come back with binoculars and a camera. I'll take some pictures."

"When are you coming back?"

"I don't know. As soon as I can." My mind was already working ahead. If I could cajole Guthrie into letting me borrow

his truck to go drive to Doc G's office the next day, I could drive to the bottom of the hill and park, and then walk up to take

pictures.

"I'll come with you if I can."

"Do you have to work tomorrow for Marie?"

"Yes. I have to be there by eight in the morning."

"We'll figure it out," I said, and we munched on the remaining crackers as we rode home.

When we came up to the barn, I was surprised, and pleased to see the Beast had been moved to the front of the barn,

and Daniel and Evan had their heads under the raised hood.

"They're working on your car," Kristin said. "Awesome."

As we rode up beside the car, Daniel and Evan looked up at us.

"Yay," I said, excited that I might actually get to use the car.

"Don't 'yay' just yet," Daniel said. "It's not road ready."

As the other four guys came out of the barn, Brian said, "How was the ride?"

"Good," I said.

"We were beginning to wonder about you two," Adam told us.

"Is it late?" I asked.

"Nearly supper time."

"Oh," I said.

"Maybe you need a watch for Christmas," Crane said, "so you can keep track of time a little better."

Kristin and I exchanged a quick look, and she swung down from Lucky,

and stood beside Guthrie.

I stayed on Petra's back, and said, "Some of the boards are off the mine opening." Instantly, all six

pairs of brotherly eyes were on me.

"You didn't-" Adam said, with a definite edge to his voice.

"No!" I said quickly. "We stopped there to eat something, and there's a hole, like somebody's going in."

They all exchanged looks.

"Maybe just the wind blowing it off," Evan suggested.

"Maybe," Adam said.

"It didn't look like that," I said, and Kristin nodded in agreement.

"No. It looked like the board was pulled off," she said. "It was still laying right there on the ground."

"How big a hole?" Crane asked.

I looked at Kristin again. "Well, it was about the size of a small person."

"A small person," Brian said, and then looked at Adam. "Or a kid."

"Yeah. More than likely," Adam agreed.

They were all looking concerned now. Daniel, who felt responsible when the mine collapsed years ago, was wiping

his oily hands on a grease rag, and paying close attention to the conversation.

"We better call Charlie," Crane said. "Let him know some kids are messing around up there again."

"Yeah," Adam said, looking like he was thinking about something.

"So how big a hole, you say?" Brian asked me, resting a hand on my saddle and looking up at me. "Like three foot wide?"

"It was about two foot or so," I said, wondering how best to tell them that Kristin and I had widened the hole a good bit.

"Huh," Brian said. "Sounds like a kid, alright."

Crane shook his head. "That's bad," he said.

Kristin spoke up, sounding nervous. "But if it was caved in years ago, then even if someone went inside, wouldn't

they be blocked off from going very far?"

"They would be," Adam told her. "But not all the areas were caved in. There's still ways to the back part. And any shaking

around or loud noises could cause the rest of it to go."

"Oh," Kristin said, really quietly, looking pale.

"It's alright," Crane told her, seeing her face. He rubbed her arm. "We'll get it taken care of before anybody

goes in."

"I'll ride up there in the mornin' and board it back up," Brian said, then.

Adam nodded in agreement.

"There's something inside," Kristin said. "Like a suitcase or something."

When they turned their intense looks to Kristin, she was startled, I could tell, by the edginess radiating from all

of them. All at once like that was overwhelming to her, I knew.

"How do you know that?" Brian asked, his voice cautiously quiet. I wasn't fooled by that quiet tone to his voice, because I

knew it for what it truly was. The calm before the storm. But Kristin, not knowing that, perked up at his

calmness, and offered without hesitation, "We looked thru the opening."

Furious eyes swept to me. "You shouldn't have even been near the damn opening!" Brian exploded.

I didn't answer that, because I didn't know what to say. He was right, and I knew it. And I also knew how

they were all consumed with worry and panic anytime they heard about, or even thought about the mine. Riding past it

on horseback is all the closer we're supposed to ever get to it.

Kristin looked even more guilty than she had before. I knew she hadn't meant to get me into trouble.

"I did it first," she said. "It was my idea to take off the board."

Furious before would have been an understatement. If looks could have done it, both of us would have been laid out flat by then.

"Come down from there," Brian said, and reached up to pull me off of Petra. Although, pull is too mild of a word for what he did.

Yanked me off, would be more the truth of it.

Guthrie was busy popping his knuckles, and standing close to Kristin, and in a quiet voice, Adam said,

"Guthrie, go on in the house and get washed up for supper."

Guthrie's mouth set in a stubborn line. "I've got reason to listen," he protested.

Crane turned to Guthrie, and said quietly, "Go on and do as you're told, Guth."

Mightly unhappy, and majorly pissed off, Guthrie gave a look around the circle of brothers, and I knew he

was thinking that he wasn't about to let these angry, hulking brothers scare Kristin. Never mind what they would do to me.

"Guthrie," Adam said now. That was all he said, but it was enough.

Guthrie sighed a deep sigh, and went to the house, plainly unhappy. Evan, with a last look at the group, followed Guthrie, so as to

provide moral support to him, I knew.

Daniel leaned against the side of the Beast, quiet, but contemplative, still wiping oil from his hands.

Brian, who'd kept a hand on my arm since he'd pulled me down, now said, still in that deceptively quiet voice,

"You said the board was already off when you got there."

"It was, Bri," I said.

"Explain," he demanded.

"We were looking thru the hole, and we saw this suitcase, or something in there," I said.

Kristin spoke up then, "And so we could see better, I said we should take another board off. It was my idea."

"Your idea or not," Adam said, "Harlie knows better."

He gave me a piercing look. "Don't you?"

"Yes, Adam," I said. There was no use in denying it.

Brian turned to Kristin, then. "You may not understand about the mine, since you didn't grow up around here. But it's to be

respected, and avoided. A man was killed in a cave-in in the early seventies, and a few years ago Guthrie, Ford and Evan

were caught in there."

Kristin may not have known about the man that was killed, but she did, definitely know the story about the boys and a

neighbor girl being caught in a cave in. She nodded up at Brian, but didn't say anything.

"So after you two pulled off the other board," Adam said, "what then?"

Kristin and I exchanged looks again, and since she looked scared to death, I said, "We just tried to see what kind of case it was. That's

all."

"That's all?!" Brian demanded. His voice had gone from quiet to roaring. He was, I estimated, at about a eight on a scale

of one to ten, because he thought I was making excuses.

"I didn't mean it like that," I said quickly. "We didn't go inside. Not at all."

Adam sighed heavily, and said, "You shouldn't have been near at all." He looked at Kristin and then at me and sighed again. "Not at all."

Before I could speak, or apologize, or generally try to sooth things over, Brian said, "If you can't be trusted while you're out, guess it's

time to take riding privileges away."

I looked at him in horror. "No, Brian, please!"

When he looked undeterred in his decision, I looked at Adam and Crane. They neither one said anything. And I knew they wouldn't. When

one of them handed down a punishment, the others didn't override it, even if they didn't necessarily agree.

I looked at Daniel, and he raised his eyebrows, and shook his head just the slightest bit.

By now Kristin looked as if she was going to cry. It wouldn't have taken much for me to start bawling, either. I'd looked forward

to lots of riding over the break from school, and to have that taken away was a real blow. I knew there was no use to argue, though,

and I knew better than to do that, anyway.

"I'm sorry for scaring you all," I said.

"I am, too," Kristin said. "I wasn't thinking."

Hannah came out on the front porch and called out to us, "Supper!"

Crane and Daniel started walking towards the house, which left "the four of us, Adam, Brian, Kristin and I standing there.

"Both of you," Brian said, "give your word to not go back?"

"Yes, Bri," I said.

"I promise," Kristin said.

"Alright, because if you go near there again, I'll roast your behind. You understand me, Harlie?"

"I understand," I said.

Brian turned to Kristin. "That goes for you, too, young lady."

Kristin's eyes widened, and I heard her draw in a deep breath. She looked even more frightened than before.

"Yes, sir," she said.

"You don't have to say sir to me," Brian told her. "Just don't go near there."

"Okay," she said, in a small voice.

"Put your horses away," Adam said, "and then get inside for supper."

We both said okay, and headed to the barn to unsaddle, leading Petra and Lucky by the reins.

When I took a look at Kristin, she had a stunned look on her face.

"Did he really mean it?" she asked, still almost in a whisper.

I didn't want to scare her more, but there was no point in lying.

"He meant it."

"Oh, my gosh," she said. "He really would-you know?"

"He wouldn't really spank you. But he would me. He has before."

"Wow," she said, still clearly shocked. "It was a little bit scary."

I didn't argue with that, because Brian can be scary.

"I know. But he won't stay mad."

"He won't?" she asked, looking disbelieving.

"No. Brian's sort of like a volcano sometimes. He bubbles up, and then he erupts. Then he cools down."

"Oh."

We put the saddles over the racks, and led the horses out towards the pasture gate.

"Bet you've changed your mind about wanting to live here, haven't you?" I asked.

"No."

I opened the gate and we turned the horses out. After I latched it shut again, we started to the house.

"Even with Brian threatening you? That didn't scare you off?" I asked.

"It scared me, but it didn't scare me away. Besides, I can see where they would be worried about something

like the mine."

"Yeah. I should have known better than to go near. Should have just told them about the opening, and then rode on. Now

I'm grounded from riding."

"It's my fault. I'm sorry, Harlie."

"It was my fault, too." I sighed. "But don't say anything about following the guy in the white truck. That would really make them

flip."

"Oh, I won't." At the door to the house, she hesitated. "I feel sort of funny. Like they're all going to be mad at us."

"They won't say anything more about it."

"You mean they'll just act like before? Like everything's alright? Even Brian?"

"You'll see," I told her.

We went in, and washed up at the kitchen sink. The family was milling around, getting food on the table, everybody talking

and laughing. As everybody sat down, the talk turned to the best time to put up the Christmas tree.

"Let's do it tomorrow evening," Hannah suggested. "That way Ford will be here."

"Nancy might come over," Evan volunteered.

"That's fine," Hannah told him. "What about Red?" she asked, turning to Daniel.

"I think he's gonna be at his sister's," Daniel said, scooping chicken and dumplings onto his plate.

"Alright. We can see if Marie wants to join us. We could have a simple supper. Maybe sandwiches and potato salad," she planned

aloud.

"Hon-" Adam began to object, from his end of the table.

"I feel fine," Hannah interrupted him. She gave him a firm look. "There's not that much work to throwing some

sandwiches together. Or baking a few cookies. The girls got the house all cleaned today." She smiled at both Kristin

and I. "Thank you both for that."

I smiled at her, and Kristin said, "You're welcome."

"What about you?" Hannah asked her. "Will you be here tomorrow night?"

"I should probably go home," Kristin said.

"Well, sure," Hannah said. "Your mom's probably missing you."

For a moment I thought Kristin was going to lose control, and start crying.

I couldn't help myself. I jumped into the conversation. "Her mom's going to be out of town all weekend."

"Oh?" Hannah said, looking from me to Kristin. "Well, then you should stay, of course."

"I don't want-to be a bother," Kristin said, looking down at her plate.

Hannah gave me a confused look. Guthrie reached for Kristin's hand, looking worried.

"You're not a bother," Hannah said.

"Of course not," Crane threw in. "You're welcome to stay."

"Thank you," Kristin said, in a low voice.

The conversation went on then, though I could see that almost everybody was curious about Kristin's

demeanor.

"What about Lila?" Hannah asked Crane. "You could ask her."

"She's leaving to spend the holidays with her parents," Crane said.

"Ford might want to ask Valerie if she's at home," Hannah continued planning.

"Hannah." Adam's voice was quiet, but his meaning was plain enough.

"Oh, alright," Hannah gave in. "Valerie will be the last one. I promise. Unless," she said, her eyes twinkling with

teasing at Adam, "Daniel wants to ask someone. Do you, Daniel?"

Daniel hesitated, as if giving the matter serious thought. "Well," he said, considering, "there might be someone."

"Oh, who?" Hannah asked, curious, as everybody turned to look down the table at Daniel.

Daniel gave me a grin. "What's that girl's name?" he asked. "Reagan Clark, isn't it?"

7


	19. Rain through a camera lens

I rolled my eyes at Daniel, and went back to eating.

"Very funny," I said, and Daniel laughed.

"What's this?" Hannah asked.

"Yeah. Fill us in on the joke," Crane said.

I leaned forward again, giving Daniel a fierce look, and he chuckled. "I'm just yanking her chain about some girl

she doesn't like."

As everybody finished and began getting up, Evan checked the dishwashing roster.

"You're on, Har," he said, too cheerfully. "You too, Guth."

"You owe me for doing breakfast dishes today," I reminded him. "When are you going to pay me back?"

"One of these days," he said, and went out of the kitchen whistling.

Kristin was helping Guthrie and I clear the table and stack the dishes when Brian came back into the kitchen,

stopping at the doorway, and resting a hand on the wall.

"Hey, Kristin," he said, and Kristin looked up quickly.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" he asked. "Please?"

Kristin swallowed, and gave me a startled look. "Umm, okay," she said.

"Don't yell at her anymore, Bri," Guthrie said, stopping in his tracks, dishes in both of his hands, to look at Brian.

"I'm not goin' to yell at anybody, Guthrie," Brian said mildly. "I just want to talk to her."

He smiled at Kristin, and in that smile I could see the charming lady-slayer that he'd been before he married

Clare. It was a smile meant to reassure, to soothe, to invite trust.

It seemed to make Kristin feel better, because, though she still looked nervous, it wasn't the look of

complete fright that she'd had moments ago.

She went out ahead of Brian, and he turned back to give Guthrie and I a warning shot. "No eavesdropping," he

told us.

When they'd gone, Guthrie and I exchanged looks. "What's that about, do ya think?" Guthrie asked me.

"I don't know."

"She's upset about somethin'. Did they yell at you two outside?"

"Yeah. Brian yelled," I admitted, though I wasn't about to share the fact that he'd threatened to paddle us both, as well. If Guthrie found

out about that, it would be because Kristin told him.

Guthrie dried the dishes as I washed, pausing in between to pop his knuckles nervously.

About ten minutes later, Kristin came back into the kitchen. I searched her face, and was relieved to see

she was smiling.

"Everything okay?" I asked her.

"Yes. He was nice. He just wanted to make sure that I felt like I could stay for the weekend. And anytime, he said."

"Oh. That's good," I said.

"It was just like you said, Harlie. He didn't say anything about what happened earlier."

"I figured," I said.

I could see that Guthrie was looking eager to be done, so I said, "I'll finish up. You guys can go on if you want."

Guthrie looked at me gratefully. "I thought we'd go in town, get a shake or somethin'."

"Sure. Go on," I told him.

"You wanna come?" Guthrie asked.

"No, thanks. Three's a crowd," I grinned at him.

"You know that's not the way it is, Har," Guthrie chided.

"Oh, I know that, goofy. Go on."

Kristin gave me a hug. "See you later."

"Bye." Before they reached the doorway, I remembered what I needed to ask Guthrie.

"Hey, Guth?"

"What?" he asked, pausing at the door.

"Since I have to work tomorrow, and Kristin does, too, could I drive your truck?"

When Guthrie answered, without even hesitating for a split second, I was reminded yet again, of why he's such

a terrific brother.

"Sure," he said.

"Thanks, Guth."

"But hey," he said, effectively ruining the whole gesture of brotherly love, "Don't go swimming while you're still

driving it, okay?"

I took a handful of soapy water, and flicked it at him. "Smartass," I said.

7

Evan came drifting into the kitchen as I was finishing up, going to the cookie jar, and pulling out a couple of cookies.

"Guthrie ditched you to finish on your own, huh?"

"It's okay. He wanted to take Kristin out for awhile."

"Huh," Evan said, and then he came over to the sink, and picked up Guthrie's abandoned dish towel. When he'd shoved

a cookie in his mouth, and started drying the dishes, I gave him a sideways glance.

"Thanks."

"Uh huh," he said, around the cookie in his mouth. "I put your boot under your bed."

"Thank you," I said, again.

I finished washing the dishes, and let the water drain out of the sink. I leaned my hip against the counter.

"I'm glad Nancy's coming over tomorrow night." I told him.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I like her."

"I like her, too," Evan said, and twirling the dish towel, snapped me on the leg with it.

7

The next morning I was up early, looking thru the back porch cabinets for the binoculars. I found them and added them to my

bag with my packed snacks. The next part was a little more tricky. I took two cups of just brewed coffee up to Crane's bedroom.

The door was open, and Crane was standing in the middle of the room, tucking in his shirt. Daniel was sitting on the other bed, pulling

on his boots.

"Good morning," I said.

"Good Lord, girl, what time did you get up?" Daniel said.

"At the crack of dawn," I said, handing him a cup of coffee, and then the other to Crane.

"What's this for?" Crane asked me, taking the cup of coffee from me. "A bribe?"

"No. Not a bribe. I do want to ask you a favor, though."

"I'm listening."

"Can I borrow your camera? Just for the day?"

"Yeah, that's alright."

"Thank you," I said, going to his closet and opening the door. "Is it in here?"

"No, it's not in there. It's downstairs, in the desk drawer."

"Okay. Do you have any extra film?"

"I think there's an extra roll. What are you taking pictures of?"

"There's some things I want to shoot pictures of on the way to work," I said, which was technically the

truth. I went to the door, intent on rousting Kristin awake, and getting on our way.

"See you later," I told them, and was down the hall to my own room. Once I had Kristin up and going,

we both went downstairs, where I added the camera to my backpack, and we were on our way out, when

Hannah arrived at the bottom of the stairs, still in her bathrobe.

"Good morning, you two," she said.

"Hi, Hannah," I said, giving her a quick hug. "Bye, Hannah."

"Why are you leaving so early?" she asked.

"It's going to be a busy day," I said, ushering Kristin out the door.

"Now just a minute," she said, following us to the door. "Did you eat breakfast?"

"Oatmeal," I assured her.

"What about you, Kristin?"

"No," Kristin admitted, "but I'll eat something when I get to the café."

We left Hannah standing there, with a sort of funny look on her face. We were in Guthrie's truck,

when he came running down the front steps.

"Hey!" he hollered, and ran up to the passenger side of the truck where Kristin was.

"We have to go," I told him, thru the open window.

"Be careful of that left front tire. It's gettin' worn, so don't drive over 45 on any country roads."

"Okay, okay," I said.

Guthrie looked at me suspiciously. "You're up to somethin'," he accused.

"That's not a nice thing to say."

"I mean it. I smell a rat. What's goin' on?"

"I'll tell you about it later," I said, mostly to get rid of him.

"Okay." He gave Kristin's hand a squeeze, and stepped away from the truck.

As we rumbled along towards the road where I was going to park so I could take the pictures, Kristin said, "Guthrie knows

something."

"Yeah. Guthrie always knows."

"Are you going to tell him?"

"Yeah. I'll tell him about it tonight."

"I think Hannah is suspicious, too," Kristin said.

"I told you, in a family like this, somebody's always suspicious of you, or worrying about you."

We got to the spot in the road where we needed to park, so we could hike up the hill. I took the camera out of my backpack and put

the strap around my neck.

"I'll carry those," Kristin said, holding out her hand for the binoculars.

When we'd made it to the top, we stopped to catch our breath, and then went to the edge of the cliff.

"Let's stay over this way," I said, pulling Kristin off into the weeds, "just in case he comes out the back and looks up here."

Laying on our stomachs, just like real spies, we took turns looking thru the binoculars, and trying to count the

number of puppies that were in those pens.

"I count thirty-five," I said, and handed them to Kristin.

As she counted, I loaded the new roll of film, and used the telephoto lens to zoom in, and started snapping pictures.

Crane's camera is a nice one, a Nikon, that he's had for a few years.

"I count thirty-nine," Kristin said. "Or forty. It's hard to count when they're all jumping together like that."

"Yeah. It's okay. I just wanted to get a rough idea of how many."

I shot a few more pictures, while a few clouds appeared, and it started to mist rain. "I wish we could get closer."

"No, Harlie!" Kristin protested. "I'm already worried! And I think even Guthrie will be mad at us!"

"I didn't mean that we should get closer, I just wish we could."

We laid there, watching for a while, but we never saw any sign of the guy. Since we were looking at the back side of the old house,

there was no way to know if his truck was out front or not.

I sat up, sticking Crane's camera under my sweatshirt to keep the rain sprinkles off of it.

"Do you have enough pictures?" Kristin asked, as she sat up, too. "This whole thing is making me nervous."

"Yeah, I'm ready," I said. We stood up, brushing dirt and leaves off of our clothes.

"What time is it?" I asked her.

"A few minutes after seven," Kristin said, looking at her watch.

"Dang. I'm going to be late," I said, and pulled the hood of my sweatshirt over my head.

We waded thru the weeds, and went down the hill as quickly as we could, trying to dodge the raindrops, but by the time we reached the bottom and

climbed into Guthrie's truck, we were both pretty wet.

"I didn't know it was going to rain," I said, switching on the heater to warm up the truck cab.

"I'll have to see if Marie has a shirt I can borrow," Kristin said.

"Yeah, you have to look nice at the café. Working with animals, it doesn't matter what I look like," I said, with a smile at her.

"Why do you think he would have that many puppies? Or that many older dogs?" Kristin asked, thoughtfully.

"I don't know." I'd been puzzling over the question ever since the day before.

"We need to tell somebody. But who?"

"The sheriff?" I suggested.

"Yes, but we'd have to tell them we'd been up here. When you show them the pictures, I mean. And then Adam

will find out. And Crane." Her face paled a little. "And Brian. Would they be very angry that we came up here like this?"

"They wouldn't be happy," I admitted. "They'll say it was a foolish thing to do."

"I'm scared for them to find out," she said quietly.

A new thought occurred to me. "Maybe we could send the pictures anonymously to the sheriff. With a letter saying where

the dogs are at, so they can come up here."

"That's a good idea," she agreed.

When I pulled up in front of Marie's café, the rain had tapered off.

"I'll see you when Doc G and I come in for lunch today," I told her.

"Okay." Kristin hesitated, her hand on the door handle. "I want you to understand, Harlie. I want to help the dogs get away

from that guy. It's just that I don't want to find out how mad the guys can really get."

"I get it," I told her.

7


	20. Emotions in the eyes

As I came into the office, I shut the heavy door behind me, and set my backpack

down beside the front desk. I pushed open the swinging doors leading to the back.

"Doc, I'm here!" I called out, as was my usual habit when I first arrived, so that he'd know I'd made it.

My attention was caught by how messy the front desk was.

It was piled high with papers and veterinary pamphlets. I was thinking that a new onslaught of them must have

come in the mail yesterday. As I was about to close the swinging door, and start tidying up

the front office, I heard Doc G's voice, and then saw him. He turned from the back shelves, a vial of medicine in his hand.

"I want to talk to you, lass," he called to me.

"Alright. I'll be back there as soon as I tidy up the office," I promised.

"Let's talk now," Doc said, beckoning to me with his hand.

"Oh. Okay," I said, and went on thru the doors, walking over to stand next to him.

Doc G was moving vials of medicines around on the shelf, obviously searching for

something.

"What are you looking for?" I asked him.

"A bottle of Droncit."

"Oh, I know where it is," I told him. I took a couple of steps the opposite way, and then reached up and

took down the bottle that he was looking for.

"See? I put everything in alphabetical order," I told him, holding the bottle out to him, and feeling

a little proud of myself. "Everything was in such a muddle, I thought it would make it quicker to

find things."

Doc G took the bottle from me, and there was something in his face that I didn't quite understand.

I thought for a moment that he might praise me for my ingenuity, but he only gave me a steady look,

and said, "Thank you." And then, "You're mighty wet."

I looked down at my damp jeans and then back up at him. "Yeah." I shrugged, not really wanting to go into

details as to why I was soaked. "Guess I won't melt, though, huh?" I gave him a smile.

Doc G didn't smile back. He turned to set the bottle down on the examining table behind us. I couldn't shake

the feeling that there was something definitely off with him. He seemed almost angry about

something.

"I'm sorry about being late today," I ventured, feeling uncertain.

"No harm done," he answered.

I couldn't shake the niggling feeling that I had, and even though I thought it highly unlikely,

because Doc G just isn't the sort to get upset with a person over something trivial like being late,

I kept on with my babbling.

"I tried to hurry," I began, "but I had to run an errand. And after that, I didn't want to drive too fast

because Guthrie said one of his tires is getting worn-"

"Being a bit late isn't of importance, lass," Doc G said, effectively shutting down that

topic.

"Okay," I said slowly, watching him as he went over to sit down on one of the tall stools

by the tables, and resting his boots on the rungs.

"Come over here and sit down," he told me, gesturing to a chair close by where he

sat. Even at that moment, I realized that the chair had been moved from the far wall where

it usually is. It was almost as if he'd moved it to this spot for a reason.

I stood where I was for a moment, and bit at my lip. I knew I was right. There

was something wrong with him. I thought of when, just a short time ago, that I'd argued with Reagan Clark

without thinking, and then, too late, had asked Doc G if he was angry with me about it. I remembered

his response then. He had reached out to tug my braid gently, and then said, 'If I ever have cause to be angry with you, lass, you'll know

it. And you'll know why.'

That scene replayed in my mind. I knew he was angry now, for sure. I just wasn't

certain why. I stood there, trying desparately to figure out what I could

have done to cause this sternness in his demeanor.

"Are you angry with me?" I asked, tremulously, still standing still, not able to put my mind on any

certain thing that I might have done to displease him.

"I am," he said, his tone decisive, though quiet.

"What have I done?" I asked.

"We're going to discuss that now. Come over here and sit down." There was no

mistaking the authority in his tone.

I obeyed him, coming slowly to sit down in the chair he'd indicated.

"I'm going to ask you something, and I want the truth of it," he said.

"Yes. Alright," I said, wondering what was coming next.

I stared at him wide-eyed and wondering, a nervous knot forming in my stomach at

his expression.

"Have you been skulking about that fellow's property? The one that dumped the pups in the creek?"

I hesitated, and Doc G said, "It's not a difficult question, lass. It's a yes, or a no."

"Yes," I admitted. "I was just trying to-"

Doc G held up a hand to forestall me from continuing. "That's enough. I'm not asking for your reasons right now. Only

if you're guilty of being up that way."

Guilty? I thought that was an odd way of putting it. I wasn't certain why Doc G

would be so upset with me over this.

"So one time, then?" he asked.

Since he was so obviously put out about it, I mulled over the

thought of lying.

Before I could answer, and commit myself to only one visit, Doc G said,

"Think before you answer. I won't appreciate a lie."

His voice was quiet, almost intimidatingly so. I felt the pit in my stomach grow bigger.

"A couple of times," I said reluctantly.

"Is it two? Or is it three?" he asked then, and I found myself drawn into those piercing

blue eyes of his.

"Two."

"And when was this, that you went? Besides yesterday?" he asked.

I wondered how he knew about yesterday. I wanted to ask him. I had to force myself not to.

"This morning," I said, and then rushed to defend myself. "He has so many puppies out there, Doc! There's close to forty, or more!"

Doc G didn't respond to my vehement announcement. Instead, he said, severely,

"That was a reckless thing to be doing. Reckless and foolish."

"He didn't see us-" I began.

"And who is this 'us' that was with you?"

I wouldn't have ratted Kristin out, but I knew she was in no danger of being in trouble

with her mom, or stepfather. They were generally too busy drinking or fighting to care much

about what Kristin did. She might, on the other hand, get an earful from the brothers McFadden, as she'd feared.

"My friend, Kristin," I admitted. "He didn't see us," I said, again.

"What makes you think that he didn't?" Doc G queried.

"Because we were careful to stay out of sight. We just watched and took some pictures-"

"It will come as news to you then, that the lad does know he's been watched," he said,

sounding exasperated.

"What do you mean?" I asked him, not certain that I wanted to know.

"Whilst bending his elbow at the bar last night, he was sharing loud and proud what plans he has

for the two riders he saw on the hill above his property. Seems that he has animal traps set up all over

the area. To deter curiousity seekers, he says."

I felt all the wind whoosh out of my lungs in shock and fear. "Oh."

"He has a good description of the two horses. One a bay, with white socks, the other

black as night," Doc G continued.

"Oh," I said again, biting at my lip, and thinking of the pain the horses would have been in if they'd stepped on one of those

traps. Or Kristin and I, as we hiked up and down. I shivered, and not just from being drenched from the rain.

"Do you know what those traps can do to a person's foot or leg?" he asked, his eyebrows drawn together.

I did know, because Brian had told me. I nodded in response. "Yes, sir."

"What have you to say for yourself?" Doc G asked, crossing his arms and giving me a

stern look.

"I was trying to get pictures-so I could prove he has all those puppies out

there-"

"And what were you going to do with the pictures?" he asked.

"Send them to the sheriff, maybe," my voice trailed off.

Doc G looked grim. I rushed to defend my actions.

"You don't think it's right he has all those dogs!" I exclaimed vehemently. "I KNOW you don't!"

"Of course I don't," he returned brusquely. "It's not your motives that I question, lass. It's your actions themselves. That young fellow

has a short fuse, and he's got some issues that make him dangerous."

"I didn't know that," I said. "I just thought he was a jerk that was running a puppy mill-"

"He's considerably more than that," Doc G informed me. "He has a conviction of assault with a weapon."

I fell my stomach drop, and my heart start pounding.

"A weapon?" I asked weakly.

"He knifed someone in a bar fight a few years past."

"I didn't know that-" I said again.

"Perhaps because you took the reins into your own hands, and rode roughshod over

your common sense," Doc G said severely.

I winced at his words.

"Why didn't you come to me first, before you did something so foolish?"

"I thought I'd get some pictures first-" my voice trailed off, as I looked at him.

"I should have come to you," I admitted.

Doc G sat, arms crossed, giving me such a stern look that I felt my stomach quiver.

"I wanted to help-" I said, my voice trailing off.

"How helpful would it be to those boys, or to sweet Hannah, if you got yourself

hurt? With all they've got to do, and with the new baby coming? How do you

think they'd feel if you or Kristin had lost toes or a foot from one of those traps?"

I swallowed past a lump in my throat, and couldn't answer.

"Answer me, lass."

"They'd be upset. Worried, and sad," I managed. I could imagine the strain on Hannah's face,

and Crane eyebrows knitted together in worry. And Adam. Adam would feel like he'd failed somehow. That he hadn't kept

me safe.

"I think they'd be terrified, even at the mere thought of it. Those boys know the damage that can come from those traps. They've

seen it," Doc G said.

I looked down at my clasped hands, tears swimming in my eyes.

The ringing of the telephone up front shattered the quiet of the moment. I started to stand up, but Doc G motioned

me back into my chair.

"Stay right there," he said.

"Shouldn't I get the phone, though?" I asked, wishing for the escape.

"They'll leave a message, or they'll call back."

I sat back in the chair again.

"Look at me," he said, and I did.

"Do you understand why I'm scolding you this way?" Doc G asked.

I nodded my head.

"Tell me," he instructed. "I want to be certain that you do."

"Because I did something that was foolish, that could have gotten Kristin and I hurt really badly, or the horses. And if he'd caught us,

he might have done something to us."

"Alright," he said, and stood up, coming over to stand in front of me. He lifted my chin with his hand,

so I was looking directly up at him.

"You've proven how intelligent a girl you are, many times over. Don't do anything like this again. Promise me."

I swallowed and said, "I promise."

He nodded, satisfied, and took his hand from my chin.

"Are you going to fire me?" I asked, in dread, so softly it was almost a whisper.

"Why in the name of heaven would I do that?" Doc G asked, looking surprised.

"I don't know-I just thought you might-" I hesitated. "You're so angry with me-"

Doc G reached down and pulled me to my feet. "You listen well, young lady," he said. "Me being angry with you has

nothing to do with your job. I like having you around here. Truth be told, I don't know how I'd manage now without you."

"Really?" I asked, hopefully, my eyes filled with tears.

"Really," Doc G said, sounding definite.

Doc G gave me a long, considering look. "As long as you understand that there's to be no more of this nonsense, it can

be between the two of us." He raised an eyebrow at me. "Your little 'Nancy Drew duo' is out of business."

"I understand. Thank you," I answered, grateful.

"Don't make me sorry for keeping it to myself," he warned.

"I won't. I promise."

"Alright, then. We've talked it out. You've given me your promise. It's done." Doc G gave my shoulder

a pat, and went past me, back to the shelves.

I stood there for a couple of moments, still rattled by what had just happened, and wiping my wet cheeks with

my hand. I went up front, and started cleaning up.

I answered the phone several times, and then went to work beside Doc G, as he gave shots to several dogs. Since the owner,

Mrs. Newell, stayed the whole time with the dogs, there wasn't much conversation between Doc G and I, other than him

asking me to retrieve something.

When Mrs. Newell gathered up her dogs, I helped her carry the smallest one back out to her car. She proceeded to start

talking to me then about Hannah, and the baby, and asking all sorts of questions. I wasn't really in the mood to be personable,

but I did my utmost to not be rude, either.

Doc G came out while I was still standing there, being detained by Mrs. Newell. He pulled the door closed, and locked it.

"Time for lunch," he announced, handing me my backpack, and Mrs. Newell gave a look at her watch, and then hustled away as if I had been the

one holding her up.

Doc G started across the street towards the café, and I tagged after him. We took our usual booth near the back, while Marie

waved a greeting at us.

Nodding towards the board where the specials were written at, Doc G said, "Meatloaf and mashed potatoes sound alright to

you today?"

"I'm not very hungry," I said. "I'll just have a hot dog or something."

"That's no fit lunch for a working girl."

I shrugged, and Doc G wrinkled his forehead at me.

"You'll eat a proper lunch," he said with authority.

When Marie bustled over to take our orders, she pinched my cheek, and rubbed Doc G's shoulder.

"What mischief are you two rascals up to today?" Marie asked us.

"We've been up to our necks in work," Doc G fired back. "We've had no time for mischief, have we, lass?"

"No, we haven't," I said agreeably.

"Is this old codger working you too hard, my darlin'?" Marie asked me, teasing Doc G.

"Oh, not too much," I said.

"Humpph," Doc G snorted. "We'll have two specials," he told Marie.

"Coffee for you," Marie said, and then looked at me. "Milk, sweetheart?"

I nodded, and Marie bustled away, waving to customers coming in the door.

People kept coming over to the table to talk to Doc, until Kristin brought two plates of

heaping meatloaf and potatoes to our table. I wished that I could tell her what had happened about Doc G knowing, but

that wasn't possible at that moment.

I was silent during the meal, pushing the potatoes around on my plate until Doc G said quietly,

"Are you put out with me then, lass?"

I hadn't been sulking, I honestly hadn't been, and I wanted him to know that wasn't the reason for

my lack of appetite, or lack of talking.

"No, sir," I said.

"I enjoy our lunches together, in large part because of the conversations we have. I just don't want that to

be absent because you're upset with me over a talking to," Doc G said.

It had been much more than a talking to that he'd given me that morning, at least to me, but I met his eye

and said, "I'm not upset with you."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that."

"I just feel bad," I said, feeling as though I was going to cry again.

"You feel ill?" he asked, looking worried.

"No. Not like that. It's not my diabetes or anything." I pushed my mashed potatoes into a mound. "It's thinking about

what would have happened if Kristin had been hurt. She didn't even really want to go up there."

Doc G took a drink of coffee, watching me over the top of his cup.

"I jump without thinking. That's what Adam says."

"You're impulsive. I agree with Adam on that. But the only real mistake is one that you don't learn something from," he said.

I blinked at him. "Adam said that same thing to me once."

"Did he?"

"Yes. Last year."

"Where's the film from your adventure this morning?" he asked.

"In my backpack," I said, gesturing to the seat beside me. "Still in the camera."

"May I have it?"

I looked at him curiously, wondering. Surely he didn't mean to destroy it, or dispose of it.

I took Crane's camera from the backpack, and rewound the film. I opened the back of the camera and took

out the roll. Then I handed it across the table to him.

Doc G took the film canister and dropped it in his front shirt pocket. "I'll take it over to the drugstore," he said, as

he dug into his meatloaf once again. "We'll have it developed, and then see where we stand for evidence."

I felt such an overwhelming emotion at that moment for the man sitting across from me. If I could have leaped

over the table to hug him, I would have.

Instead, I looked at him, and hoped he could see all the emotions in my eyes.

"Thank you," I said, though I wanted to say so much more.

Doc G returned my gaze. In his eyes I saw emotions, too. Warmth, and compassion, and understanding. I knew in that moment

that he absolutely, truly cared about me.

All he said, though, was this. "Eat your lunch, Harlie Mac."

7

Credit for the "Nancy Drew duo" term used in this chapter goes to my faithful reviewer, Robinangel!


	21. Kristin's wish

When I parked Guthrie's truck at home, Daniel came out of the barn to greet me.

"How was your day?" Daniel asked me, as we walked towards the house.

"Busy. How was yours?"

"I did some more work on your car."

"That's great, Daniel. Thank you."

"It needs some parts. An alternator and fuel filter."

"Oh." I stopped walking to look up at him. "How much does that cost?"

"Oh, somewhere around a hundred bucks. Cheaper if I can find a rebuilt one. And then, of course there's my labor. I figure fifty bucks an hour

should cover that."

"Oh, ho! Funny guy," I told him, with a shove. "I should be able to buy the parts soon." I gave him another push. "But

I'll have to owe you for your high dollar labor."

Daniel pretended disappointment, and then gave a deep sigh. "I guess I can wait for my money," he said.

"So if those things were fixed, then I'd be able to drive it?" I asked him, as we went on up the stairs. I was getting excited

thinking about having my own "wheels" and not having to beg or borrow rides from my brothers.

"It needs tires, too, before you drive it."

"Oh," I said, disappointed. "Yeah, that's right. I forgot."

"I might be able to help you out with that," Daniel said.

I looked at him gratefully, and then hesitated. "Do you have the money? Maybe you shouldn't."

"I think I have a few dollars tucked away," Daniel said breezily, ushering me in ahead of him. "Everybody's just finishing

up with lunch," he told me, and I tagged after him to the kitchen.

"Is my truck still in one piece?" Guthrie spoke up, from his place at the table.

"Yes, Guth. It's fine. I treated it like it was made of glass," I told him.

"You treat his truck like glass, but yet you drive mine into a river?" Evan spoke up, with a grin.

I smiled back at him, glad that we could joke about it all now. "Technically, it was a creek," I corrected him.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, and went back to eating his lunch.

"Kristin says she'll be done about four," I told Guthrie, and he nodded around his ham sandwich.

Hannah patted my chair. "Sit down here. Do you want a sandwich?"

I put my hands on the back of my chair. "I ate with Doc G."

"Did you bring the camera home?" Crane asked me.

"Yeah. I'll go put it back in the desk drawer," I told him, and went out before anybody else could ask me what I had

been taking pictures of.

I was just closing the desk drawer, when Crane came thru from the kitchen. "Tutoring today," he reminded me.

I groaned, and Crane gave me a raised eyebrow look. "What's that about?" he asked me.

"Nothing. It's just with it being vacation and all, the thought of algebra is depressing."

"You skipped it last week," he reminded me. "You don't want to lose your momentum you've got going, and have your grade drop."

"I know." I sighed. "I'm gonna go change my clothes before she gets here."

After I'd changed my clothes, I went out to sit on the porch in the swing, When Mrs. Stevens got there, we went in to sit at the

kitchen table. We spread out the books and papers, and worked on the homework assigned for the Christmas break.

"Well, Harlie," Mrs. Stevens said, sounding pleased, "you buzzed right thru that today."

I was happy about it, too. "It'll be nice to not have to worry about doing any math homework for the rest of the break," I told her.

Crane was sitting at the desk when we went back thru the living room, his glasses on top of his head, going thru the desk drawers

like he was looking for something.

He stood up as we came in. "How'd it go today?" he asked.

"Harlie's doing very well," Mrs. Stevens said. "She's made tremendous progress."

"I always knew she had a good brain underneath all that hair," Crane said, and Mrs. Stevens laughed a little.

Crane pulled some cash out of his wallet, and handed it to her.

They discussed the fact that we would pick up with tutoring again at the first of the month, when school started back up.

After Mrs. Stevens had left, I felt even more free than I had before. No math homework until school started again. Yippee!

"When is the signup for the college English class?" Crane asked me, as we went back into the house.

I thought for a minute. "Monday or Tuesday of week after this, I think. I put the note on your desk."

"Okay. I'll look for it."

He went back to the desk, pulling the glasses down from the top of his head, and putting them back on, as he sat down.

I watched as he started looking thru stacks of receipts, and writing in the ledger where he keeps track of all the bills.

"Crane?"

"Hmm?"

"Is there enough money for the English class? If there's not, I can wait, and take it later on."

Crane looked up at me. "It's taken care of. I told you, I'll pay for it. And if you get a B or above, you don't have to

pay me back."

"I know. It's just with all the expenses lately. Christmas, and the baby, and-"

Crane reached out and tugged me over, pulling me down until I was perched on his knee.

"I think it's great how you recognize the value of money, and the fact that you're working at a job like you are, and

earning money, well, that's great, too. It shows a lot of maturity on your part. But there's still things that you aren't meant to

worry about," he said.

"I know that, but-"

"Have there been times that we've told you no about something? When we've said that there

wasn't enough money for something you wanted to buy, or do?" he asked then.

He knew there had been plenty of those times. This was one of those questions that the answer was already

known.

I nodded.

"If there wasn't money for your class, then I'd say so, wouldn't I?" he asked.

I hesitated for a minute. "Maybe not," I said.

Both of his eyebrows rose at my comment. "How's that?" he asked.

"Well," I said slowly, fiddling with the top button on his shirt. "You always keep your word to people. You told me

months ago that you would pay for it. So, even if there's not any extra money to pay it, you still will, because you wouldn't

want to break your promise to me."

"Oh, is that right?" he challenged me.

"Yes. That's right."

I pressed my forehead against his. "I'm smart like that," I said.

"Hmmm," he said.

"Hmmm," I countered, and he pushed me back a little.

"Alright, Miss Know It All. You've got it all figured out. But for your information, I would tell you if there wasn't money

for the class."

"Nope," I said, in mock sternness, shaking my head. "I don't think so."

"I'm perfectly capable of telling you no." He looked at me over the top of his glasses. "No, peanut, you may not have a new

Camaro; No, you may not have one of the Clydesdale horses for a pet; No, you may not go to Paris, France next summer. See?

Perfectly capable."

I giggled a little. "You're a goofball," I told him.

"One of my many talents." He took off his glasses and laid them on the desk. "Serious up, now," he ordered. "You can sign up

for your class with no worries, alright? I've got it."

"Okay."

"Things are going better, money-wise," he went on. "I don't want you to worry."

"Okay," I said again.

He gave me a light push, and I stood up.

"I have to say, though, that it is a bitter. bitter disappointment," I informed him.

"What is?"

"The 'no Clydesdale for a pet' part of all this," I said, making fake crying noises.

"Well, maybe next year we'll get one," Crane said, going along with the joke. "Now get going. I've got work to do."

7

Our evening of Christmas tree decorating was fun. Clare made a lot of popcorn, and besides eating it, we strung some for

the tree, too. We had hot cocoa and spiced cider, and ham sandwiches with cookies. Ford had finally arrived home late that

afternoon. Marie drove over, so with Nancy and Kristin, we were indeed a full house. In the midst of everything, the laughing

and joking, and all of that, I suddenly felt a longing for Doc G to be here with all of us.

I went to where Hannah was sitting, next to Adam, drinking a cup of cider, and laughing at Evan as he put on a Santa hat

he'd found in the bottom of the decoration box.

When Evan sat down, pulling Nancy down onto his lap, and said, "Ho, Ho, Ho, and what do you want for Christmas, little girl?"

everybody laughed.

Hannah looked up at me, standing there beside the couch.

"Everything alright, sweetie?" she asked me.

"Would it be alright if I called Doc G and invited him over?" I asked.

Hannah and Adam exchanged a look. "Of course you can," Hannah said.

"He might not even be home," I said. "I just want to ask him."

"Tell him to get over here for some pie," Adam said.

I went to the upstairs phone, because it would have been impossible to hear anything on the downstairs phone.

I called the office first, and when there was no answer, I tried Doc's home phone. I was surprised when he

actually answered.

I asked him to come over and join us, and told him the family really wanted to see him.

"I appreciate the invitation, lass, but I've got my feet up, and Pearl, Brutus and I are settling in for the night. Tell Adam and Hannah

thank you for me, though."

"Alright." I hesitated, reluctant to let him go for some reason. "Will you be at church tomorrow?"

"Likely I will, unless I get an emergency call."

"Okay," I said.

"I hear that the Ivy's bought some more sheep today," he said. "Another fifty head, or so."

"Oh, good grief Gertie," I exclaimed. "Don't they know the meaning of moderation?"

I heard Doc G chuckle softly. "Goodnight, lass," he said, and hung up.

7

The next morning we all went to church, and with Ford and Daniel, and Kristin, too, we took up two pews with just us.

After services, while everyone was standing outside mingling and visiting, I saw Eddie Marmon at a distance. He looked my way,

and he gave me a nod, and then a slight wave. As waves go, it wasn't much. But I was glad for it, just the same. I waved back.

Standing there beside Daniel, he followed to where my attention was.

"Isn't that Eddie over there?" he asked me.

I nodded at him, and he looked at me curiously. "What's that little wave thing goin' on between you two?"

"He's just being nice."

"That's Har's dream guy," Guthrie volunteered, with a mischievious glint in his eye.

"Shut up, Guthrie," I said.

Guthrie unwrapped a piece of gum from his pocket, and popped it into his mouth. He shrugged, unconcerned. "It's the truth, isn't it?"

I had the sudden urge to whack Guthrie. If we hadn't been standing in front of the church, with Pastor Curry only a few feet away,

I just might have done it.

"Guthrie, you're making me mad," I told him, narrowing my eyes. "You'd better stop. I mean it."

"Oooo, I'm shakin' in my boots," Guthrie said, in mock fear.

"Lay off, Guth," Evan said, speaking up unexpectantly. I hadn't realized he'd been listening to our conversation.

"What?" Guthrie asked, innocently. "I'm just joking around."

"She doesn't want to be teased about it," Evan said, taking Nancy by the hand. "See you all at home," he said, as he and

Nancy walked away, towards her car.

When Daniel and I were left standing there, alone, he looked towards Eddie, and then back at me again.

"I think he wants to talk to you," he said.

"No, he doesn't," I said so quickly, that Daniel's confused expression only grew more so.

"He looks like he does."

"No." I took Daniel by the hand and started tugging him towards the Jeep. "Let's go."

As we climbed into the back seat of the Jeep, and just before Crane and Ford came over to get into the front seats, Daniel

said, "I think I'm out of the loop here, squirt. First Reagan Clark, and now Eddie. We need to have a long, long talk one of

these days."

7

I thought as we left the church that Doc G must have had an emergency call come up, since he wasn't at church services. I asked

Crane to drive past the vet office, but his truck wasn't parked in front.

When we reached home, we all gathered around the table for leftover roast beef sandwiches and potato chips. I sought Adam out

after lunch as he was settling in his easy chair with the Sunday newspaper.

"Adam?"

"Hmm?" he asked, shaking out the newspaper.

"I was wondering if I could go into town to the vet office."

"Did Doc call?" he asked, without looking up.

"No. I just want to see if everything's alright."

Now he looked up at me. "Something wrong with Doc?"

"I don't think so. I just want to go."

Adam gave me his full attention. "You were there yesterday," he said slowly. "Are you working for him tomorrow or Tuesday?"

"I will if he needs me."

"I think you should take it easy today. Rest a little."

The phone started ringing as Adam was going to say something else. I went to answer it.

It was Kristin's mom, asking to talk to her.

I laid the phone down and went looking for Kristin. She and Guthrie were sitting on the porch swing together, holding

hands.

"Your mom's on the phone," I told her.

"Okay," she said, and got up.

After she went inside, Guthrie got to his feet. "How does her mom sound?"

I shrugged. "Kind of excited. Nervous."

"You got all of that out of a couple of words?"

"You asked. I'm just telling you what I think."

"You're sure grouchy today," Guthrie accused.

"You're the grouchy one," I countered, and went inside, letting the door slam behind me.

Kristin was still on the phone, and she wasn't saying a lot, but she looked really upset, and I went to

stand beside her. When she hung the phone up, her face was pale.

"I need to go home soon," she said.

"Okay." I waited for her to tell me what the real problem was.

She nodded towards Adam and Hannah, Brian and Clare in the living room a few feet away. "Let's go upstairs," she whispered.

We went in my room, and I shut the door.

Kristin sat down on my bed, twisting her hands together.

"Mom says that Frank really liked San Francisco. They did some sightseeing, and even looked at an apartment."

"They did?" I asked, my stomach dropping.

"Frank talked to some old friend of his that lives there. He works for a newspaper, and he told Frank that he can get him a job

there. At least that's what Frank told mom."

"You don't think it's true?" I asked her.

Kristin shrugged. "It could be that he's lying to mom about that part. He's done it before."

"Oh." I couldn't imagine a grown man lying about something so important to his wife.

"I'd better get ready to go home," she said, sounding reluctant, and got up to start picking up her clothes.

"When did your mom say they are thinking about moving?" I asked.

"She didn't really get that far. Probably soon, though. When Frank gets going on a tangent like this, he doesn't take

much time following thru."

"Are you going to tell your mom you want to stay here?"

Kristin shoved her clothes in her overnight bag. "I don't know. Besides, I still think that I shouldn't ask. It wouldn't be

right."

"You want to, though, don't you?"

"Yes," she admitted.

"We can at least talk to them about it."

"Well-" she hesitated, looking unsure, but yet hopeful. "First I have to tell Guthrie. He doesn't know anything about it."

"Okay," I agreed, and we went downstairs.

When we came into the living room, everyone looked up, and saw Kristin standing there with her backpack of clothes.

"You heading home, Kris-10?" Crane asked, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

"Yes. In a few minutes. Can I talk to you, Guthrie?"

Guthrie got up, looking worried. I guess he'd picked up on Kristin looking sad and upset.

"Yeah. Okay," he said, and they went out on the porch together. I was left standing there, with all of them looking at me

curiously.

"Everything okay?" Adam asked me.

"Not really."

"Is there something we can do for her?" Hannah asked.

I couldn't tell them, that was Kristin's place, but I said quietly, "I think she's going to talk to you all about it."

"Oh," Hannah said. She and Adam exchanged a look with each other, and then with Brian and Crane.

When the front door opened again, Kristin and Guthrie came back in. They were still holding hands, and Guthrie

looked thunderstruck.

Kristin came to stand beside me, and reached for my hand, as well.

"I'd like to talk to you all, if that's alright," Kristin said, her voice quiet, but steady.

"Of course," Hannah said.

Crane smiled at her. "Whatever it is, we'll try to help."

"Well, my mother was in San Francisco this weekend. She and Frank went because he wants to move there."

"Oh," Hannah said. "Do you have other family there?"

"No. We don't know anybody there. Well, at least Mom doesn't. I guess Frank does. He thinks he can get a job there. He

says he can't stay around Murphys anymore because everybody is too against him, and he can't get a job."

"Well, sometimes a fresh start somewhere is a good thing," Adam said.

"We'd miss you very much if you do go," Hannah said.

Kristin looked at me. I gave her an encouraging nod.

"I'd miss all of you, too," Kristin said, and her eyes filled with tears. "This has been like a real home to me. You've all been

so good to me-" her voice broke off.

"You're easy to like," Crane said, with another smile.

Kristin tried to smile back. "Thanks, Crane," she said.

I gave her hand a squeeze. "Go on," I said.

Kristin looked around the room, and then turned even more pale. "I can't," she said, and went running outside.

They all looked startled, "What's that about?" Brian asked.

I decided quick and blunt was the best way. "She'd like to stay here with us."

"And not go with her mother?" Hannah asked, sounding surprised.

I nodded.

"Well-" Hannah's voice trailed off, and she looked at Adam.

Adam leaned forward. "How did this come about? Kristin wanting to stay here, I mean."

"She likes it here," I said simply.

"She's got no home life," Guthrie added. "It's a terrible environment."

"Well, I know, but-" Adam began.

"She's a good student," I interrupted. "She never gets into any trouble at school. She's respectful and she's thoughtful-"

Adam held up a hand to silence me. "We all know what a nice girl Kristin is."

"Yeah," Brian added. "You don't have to sell her to us. We all think she's great."

I let out a breath that I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "That's good!" I said in excitement. "She'll just blend right into

things around here!"

"Now hold up a minute," Adam said, and I subsided. "That doesn't mean she can stay here. That's a big decision. We'd

all have to talk about it-find out what she's thinking, all of that stuff."

"It's a big responsibility to take on someone else's child," Hannah said.

"But it's not like she'd cause any trouble, or anything like that," I said. "She'd be so happy to be here. She told me

she doesn't even mind when she gets bossed around, or told off by one of you, like Brian did the other day."

"Hey, now," Brian protested. "Don't make me sound like a monster."

"I didn't mean it like that, Bri," I told him. "It's just that she understood why you were mad, and she didn't pout about

it or anything. She respects you." I included Crane and Adam in my look. "She respects all of you."

Crane pushed himself off the couch. "I'll go talk to her," he said, and went outside.

Guthrie began popping his knuckles. "Please?" he said, looking at all of them.

"Guth, it's not that we don't want to help," Adam said. "But like I said, it's something that would take

a lot of thought."

"Have either of you, or Kristin, thought that her mother may not approve her staying here anyway?" Hannah

pointed out.

"Her mom won't care," I said, with certainty.

"You can't know that for a definite fact," Hannah said.

"Hannah, you know how her mom is! As long as Frank's happy, that's all she freaking cares about!" I insisted.

I saw Adam frown, and I knew he was about to scold me for my language. Before he could say anything, though,

Hannah spoke up firmly. "Harlie Marie, you can't know what's inside of her heart, so don't presume to act as if you do."

I felt my face grow warm in embarrassment. I took a deep breath, and then let it out. "Sorry," I said.

Hannah looked somewhat appeased. "Alright. All I'm saying is that you shouldn't judge Linda too harshly. Noone

can really know the extent of another person's feelings."

"Yeah, but Hannah, you and Adam are always saying how actions speak louder than words," Guthrie spoke up. "And her mom's actions

don't speak of her bein' a very good mom."

What Guthrie said was true. And I admired him for saying it. And he said it while still showing respect to Hannah.

"Well," Hannah said consideringly. "Maybe not. But sometimes people do the best that they can do at a certain time."

"Will you at least think about it?" I asked.

Brian and Adam and Hannah all exchanged looks, while Clare stayed quiet, giving Guthrie and I a sympathetic look.

"We will think about it," Adam said.

"Alright," Guthrie said, and went outside, no doubt in search of Kristin and Crane.

"Come here, Harlie," Adam said, beckoning me with his hand.

I went, sitting down next to him. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and pulled me close to him.

I waited for him to say something, wondering what he wanted. But he didn't speak at all. He just kissed the top of my

head, kept his arm around me tightly, and then went on reading his newspaper.

7


	22. Tires and Oil

Kristin came back inside before she left with Guthrie. She came to the end of the couch and stood, her backpack slung

over her shoulder.

"I'm sorry for running out that way," she said, including everybody in her apology.

"It's alright," Hannah told her. "We understand."

"If my mom does go with Frank to San Francisco, I would like to stay here with all of you. I should have asked you myself instead

of making Harlie and Guthrie talk for me."

"We'd love to have you here," Hannah told her. "But we do need to talk about it. And your mother might not agree, anyway."

"I honestly don't think she'll care," Kristin said, in a matter of fact tone, and Crane rubbed her arm in support.

"Kristin, I know she cares," Hannah said, sounding sad.

Kristin shrugged.

Adam stood up, and went to stand next to her. "We'll talk it over, and then we'll talk to you again. After that, that's when we'd talk

to your mother about it."

"Okay," Kristin said, looking hopeful.

"No promises, though," Adam said, and Kristin lost her hopeful look.

"Okay," she said again.

I followed her and Guthrie outside, telling her that I'd see her the next day at the café, if I came in with Doc G.

The rest of the day was quiet, and not too eventful. I made cookies for Daniel, chocolate no-bake, his favorite. After that,

I stirred up a batch of molasses ones for Adam, and made lemon bars for Ford. After that I had all the dishes I'd used to

bake to wash and dry.

When I took everything out of the oven, I put several of the molasses ones on a plate, and poured a cup of coffee, and took

it to Adam, who was still sitting in his easy chair, the newspaper on his lap. His eyes were closed, and I hesitated about waking

him up. Just when I'd about decided that I shouldn't, and was turning to go back to the kitchen with the cookies and coffee, he

opened his eyes.

"Hey, sugar," he said.

"Did I wake you?"

"No, just resting my eyes a minute." He sat up a little straighter. "What do you have there?" he asked, eyeing the plate of cookies.

"Oh, just some cookies," I said airily, teasing him. "I doubt if you'd be interested."

"Oh, I might be," he said. "They look like molasses cookies."

I gave the cookies a cursory glance. "They do look like it, don't they?"

"They for me?"

"They might be," I said, with a smile.

"Hand 'em over then, so I can see how they taste."

"Well," I said, as if I was considering, "I guess you can. I doubt if they're very good, though."

Adam held out his hand for the plate. "Let me be the judge of that, alright?"

"Well, alright," I said, with a deep sigh, going along with the teasing.

Adam bit into a cookie, as I set the cup of coffee on the table beside his chair.

" Cookies fit for a king," he pronounced with approval.

I grinned at him, and sat down on the footstool in front of the chair. "I don't know any kings around here, but I'm glad

you like them."

He ate his cookies, and drank the coffee. I picked up the comics from his Sunday newspaper, and started reading them.

"Hannah taking a nap?" I asked him.

"Yep."

"Where's Ford? And Daniel?"

"Workin' on your car, I think," he said.

Adam hesitated. "I want you to understand about Kristin. We care about her, and we'd like to help, but it's not a small decision."

"Because it would cost money to have her here?" I asked.

"Well, money is an issue. Havin' a teenager isn't cheap. But that's not the main worry. Taking responsibility for someone else's

kid is a big thing."

"I know." I sighed.

"And, in case you haven't noticed," he added wryly, "we have kind of a full house around here already."

"Not so full, with Daniel and Ford gone most of the time."

"Maybe so, but it still feels pretty full to me."

"But you will think about it, right?" I asked.

"Yes. We'll think about it."

"Ok." I set the comics down. "I guess I'll go out and see how the boys are doing."

"Okay," he said, returning to his newspaper.

On second thought, I took some cooled lemon bars, and no bake cookies out on a paper plate, when I went out to where

the boys were working, their heads stuck inside the hood of the El Camino.

"How's it going?" I asked, leaning my head under the hood, too.

"Slow," Daniel said.

Ford's eyes immediately went to the plate in my hand. "Lemon bars?" he asked happily.

"Yep."

"That's great, Har. Thanks." He reached out to take one, greasy hands and all.

"Good job," he approved, his mouth full.

"Here," I said, holding the plate out to Daniel. "I made the chocolate ones for you."

Daniel reached into his pocket for a grease rag, and wiped his hands. "Hey, this is alright," he said, taking a no-bake. "What did

Ford and I do to rate this?"

"Well, you're working on my car, and it is the Christmas season, after all," I grinned at him.

I peered down into the engine again. "Where's the alternator thing?" I asked.

Daniel pointed. "Right there."

"And that's what I need a new one of, right?"

"That is the new one."

I looked at him, confused. "You bought it? Since yesterday?"

"Yeah. I went to get it yesterday afternoon."

"Oh. Wow. Well, that's good. I can pay you for it soon."

Daniel nodded in an absent-minded sort of way, and he and Ford started talking about why something or other wasn't

'engaging' the way it should. I didn't understand it, so I picked up the plate, now empty of cookies and lemon bars.

"Well, see you guys later," I said.

"Just whoa up," Daniel told me, and I turned to look at him.

"What?"

"You can help, that's what," he told me. "Are those old clothes you've got on?"

I looked down at my jeans and Betty Boop t shirt. "Yes, but I don't know anything about working on cars, Daniel. I wouldn't be

any help."

"You can start learnin'," he returned.

I didn't particularly want to help. I don't mind getting dirty, it wasn't that. I've just never been that interested in

mechanics.

I guess my reluctance showed on my face somewhat because Daniel gave me a narrow-eyed look.

"Do you want your own car, squirt?" he asked, pointedly.

"Yes, of course I do-"

"Well, there's more to havin' your own car than just gettin' in it and driving away. By the time this heap is ready to drive, you're

gonna know how to change a tire, check and change the oil, replace the windshield wipers, and all of that."

"I am?" I asked doubtfully. "All of that stuff?"

"All of that stuff," Daniel said, sounding firm.

"But isn't that what older brothers are for?" I asked lightly, only half teasing him. "To do all that stuff for their sister?"

"All females should be able to do routine maintenance on a car," Daniel insisted. "In case you're out alone somewhere, so you'll know

what to do."

"Sounds like loads of fun," I said, lightly, and a trifle sarcastically.

Daniel looked unamused at that, and a little bit cross, so I added quickly, "I meant, 'yes, sir, reporting for duty, sir!'" and saluted him.

Ford chuckled.

"Smartass," Daniel told me.

7

I'd left Doc G a message, and he called back after supper, saying that he would pick me up the next morning. I hung up, and went

to tell Adam what I was going to do. Hannah was sitting next to him, looking uncomfortable.

"Are you alright?" I asked her.

"Just having some back spasms."

"Do you think maybe you're in early labor?" I asked hopefully.

"No, sweetie."

"Oh." I couldn't help being disappointed. It seemed like Hannah had been pregnant forever. But then I felt guilty. If it felt

like forever to me, what must it feel like to her?

"Want a cup of tea?" I asked her.

Hannah smiled at me gratefully. "I'd love one. Thank you."

I went to make the tea, carrying it back to her, and she took a sip. "It tastes wonderful, sweetie."

"I should have thought about makin' you a cup," Adam said, looking guilty. "Sorry, babe."

"It's fine," Hannah said. "I didn't even know I wanted one until Harlie mentioned it." She held out a hand to me, and I

took it. "What's on your hands?" she asked me.

"Daniel's trying to make a mechanic out of me," I told her. "I can't get the oil off my fingernails. He says he's gonna teach

me how to check oil and change a tire, and all of that."

"Good for Daniel," Adam said, looking pleased.

"'Good for Daniel' about what?" Daniel said, coming from the kitchen, with a huge sandwich in his hand.

"Good for you for teaching your sister about cars," Adam told him. He eyed Daniel's sandwich. "Good Lord, boy, we just

had supper."

"I'm still a growing boy," Daniel said.

"Leave him alone, Adam," Hannah said, smiling fondly at Daniel as he took the spot beside her on the couch.

"Yeah, Adam," Daniel said, with a smirk at Adam.

"Aren't you going to town with Evan and Ford?" he asked Daniel.

"Naw, I thought I'd just sort of hang around here at home. I've missed bein' here."

"And we miss having you here," Hannah said, pulling him over to kiss his cheek. Her eyes were shiny with quick tears.

She wiped them away impatiently. "Pregnancy hormones," she said, in explanation. "Just ignore the tears."

"Daniel, feel," she said then, taking his hand and putting it on her stomach. "He's moving."

Daniel's eyes widened, and then he smiled. "That sure is somethin'," he said.

7

When Doc G came to pick me up the next morning, he was coaxed in for coffee and some of my leftover lemon

bars. I managed a cup of coffee without Hannah noticing.

As Doc G pushed away from the kitchen table, thanking Hannah and Adam, he said,

"Those were some fine lemon bars, Hannah. My mother used to make them when I was a lad."

"Well, I can't take credit for these. Harlie made them," Hannah told him.

Doc G gave me a wink. "Is there anything this girl can't do?"

I was embarrassed, yet I was pleased, too. I settled for a smile.

"Do you have a hat, lass?" he asked me, as we headed thru the living room.

"A cowboy hat? Or a ball cap?" I asked him.

"Either one. As long as it's a hat. You'll need it today."

I was curious, but I didn't ask questions. I ran upstairs to my bedroom, and grabbed my red ball cap, twisting my braid

thru the back. I ran back down the stairs.

"Take your jacket, Harlie," Hannah said.

"Okay," I said, grabbing it from the coat hooks on the wall.

As we went outside, I saw that Doc G had his long gooseneck trailer hitched to the back of his truck. Doc G said goodbye

to Adam and Hannah, and then turned to me. "Well, Harlie Mac, what do you think? Ready to get this day started?"

"Yes, sir, I'm ready."

I waited until we got into the truck and out onto the road before I started asking questions.

"What are you picking up today with the trailer?" I asked.

"I have a friend in Modesto who needs her horses rehomed. I told her I'd come and pick them up."

"And then find homes for them?"

"That's the plan."

"How many horses?"

"Four."

"We could ask Taylor Callahan to put a notice in the paper," I suggested. "He doesn't charge for ads about animals."

"That's a good idea."

"Is your friend sick? Or getting divorced?"

Doc G gave me a sidelong glance, and raised an eyebrow at me.

"I meant, is that why she has to rehome her horses?" I asked.

"Her reasons are her reasons, Harlie Mac," Doc G said, and I felt warm with embarrassment.

"Sorry. Guess I'm too nosy sometimes."

"Sometimes," he said, but the wink he gave me took the sting out of his words.

Doc G asked me to pour him a cup of coffee from his thermos, and I did, handing it to him.

"Will you tell me some more about Ireland?" I asked him.

"What would you like to know?"

"Is it really beautiful there? All the pictures I've seen, it looks like it is."

"In the country, it is beautiful. Lots of hills, and green grass."

"Did you live in a small town?"

"A small one, yes, but they're called villages."

"What was your mother like?"

"She was a saint. Or nearly. She kept us fed and cared for with little help from my pa."

"Oh." I was curious, but I knew better than to pry.

"My pa liked the whiskey," he said, in explanation.

"Kristin's stepfather gets mean when he drinks," I said.

"Is that Frank Bays?"

I nodded.

"Well, my pa didn't get mean. He was what they call a happy drunk. Buying everyone in the pub a drink with all his week's pay, that's what he was about."

"Oh. That must have been hard for your mother."

"It was," he said simply.

"Did you have brothers and sisters?"

"One brother. Johnny." Doc G had sort of a far away look on his face, like he was thinking back to long ago years. "He was two years older than I was, and I thought he hung the moon. We weren't often one without the other."

"Sort of like Guthrie and I," I said. "You and Johnny must have had a lot of fun together."

"We did. Swimming and fishing, those were our favorite things to do. When we weren't rescuing and tending to the

critters we found."

"Dogs?" I asked.

"We had our share of those. Birds. A raccoon or two. And a donkey we named Elmer."

"That's a good name for a donkey. Did you get to keep him?"

"We kept him for a few years. Until we came to America."

"What happened to him?"

"My pa gave him to a neighbor for a bottle of whiskey."

When Doc G looked over at me and saw my look of dismay, he said, "We couldn't have brought old Elmer with us on the boat here, anyway. I'm sure he lived a long and happy life on the farm."

Doc G went on to tell me a story about how they smuggled one of their raccoons into church one Sunday morning, and during the

prayer the coon got loose. When everyone raised their heads and opened their eyes from the prayer, it was to see the coon sitting

up eating the bread that was set out for communion.

I laughed. "That must have been something to see!"

"Oh, it was. Johnny and I and our cousins were laughing so hard we gave ourselves away."

I told Doc G then about the time that Guthrie and I had tricked a family friend into leaving his cotton candy stand at the

fair, and we'd snuck in and eaten most of the cotton candy.

We drove along in silence for a few minutes, and then I asked, "Where does Johnny live?"

Doc hesitated for just the slightest moment. "Johnny, he's been gone now for a lot of years. He died when he was ten. About

six months before we came to the United States."

I caught my breath, and looked straight ahead for a minute, and then back at Doc again. I had no idea what to say.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly, feeling as if it wasn't enough.

Doc G nodded in acknowledgement. "He was a good bit like Guthrie. Funny, but steady. Always there when he was needed. Used to

pop his knuckles like Guthrie does."

I wanted to ask what had happened to Johnny, to cause him to die at such a young age, but I didn't. Instead, I said, "I'm sorry

for asking about when you were little, and making you sad, remembering him."

"No need to be sorry, lass," Doc G said, and I could tell that he meant it. "I don't often talk about Johnny to anyone. It was

nice-remembering the good times I had with him."

After that, we talked about other things. As we drove, and talked, I promised myself that when I got home that afternoon,

I would grab Guthrie, and hug him hard. And when he protested, or asked why, I'd tell him he was my Johnny. And to

shut up and hug me back.

7

We got to Doc G's friend's house, and I couldn't stop gawking. It was the biggest house I'd ever seen. And the

yard was perfectly landscaped. Flowers everywhere. The fence running along the front of the driveway was the kind

that Adam's always wanted. The one that he's always said was too expensive.

His friend turned out to be an attractive lady with dark hair and eyes, wearing jeans that she

had tucked into cowboy boots, and a lavender shirt.

Before Doc G even had a chance to introduce us to each other, she came to where I was climbing out of the truck, and

offered me her hand. I took it and she shook it with a hearty handshake.

"You must be the Harlie that G is always talking about," she said, warmly. "I'm Irene. I'm glad to meet you."

"I'm glad to meet you, too," I said. I noticed that she called Doc G just plain G. I sized her up, wondering if she was a past

romance of his. I'm not good at judging people's ages, but she looked like she was in her early fifties or so. She sure was a beautiful woman.

"Come inside for something to eat," she offered, and hooked her arm thru Doc G's, walking him towards the house.

She turned to motion to me. "I got some Coke when G told me he was bringing you along," she told me. "Young people

always seem to want their Cokes." She laughed, and kept talking. She talked pretty much the whole time she was serving

Doc G a piece of cake and some coffee.

I said no thanks to the cake, but I did accept the Coke. It had been so long since I'd had one, that I just couldn't resist. It

was nice and cold, and I swallowed it with satisfaction. I'd forgotten how good Coke tastes. I would, I promised myself, be extra careful

what I ate the rest of the day.

As Irene and Doc G visited, I looked around the living room, trying not to seem too curious. I'd never seen a house so full

of antiques. I'm sure no expert on old furniture, but most of the pieces looked like they were pretty valuable. When I looked towards

the staircase, I saw that the stairs were marble.

Holy macaroni, I thought to myself. This was by far the fanciest house I'd ever been in. And that's even including Mary Kate Steven's, whose parents have the biggest house in Murphys.

Still, though, Irene didn't seem to have the pretentiousness that a lot of rich people have. She was warm and welcoming.

I sipped my Coke, watching her and Doc G covertly. If they weren't past romantic partners, they were sure good friends.

It was obvious that they were fond of each other. My curiousity kicked into high gear. I wondered again why she had to rehome

her horses. She didn't look like she was ill. And, looking around, it sure didn't seem as if she had any financial worries.

When I snapped out of my deep thought, I heard Irene asking Doc G if we were staying for lunch.

"You know Lena will be glad to fix some lunch for all of us," Irene told him.

Lena? I wondered who Lena was.

"Not today," Doc G told her. "I've got calls to make when we get back to Murphys."

Irene made no attempt to hide her disappointment. "What am I going to have to do to get you to stay longer than an hour

whenever you're here?"

"I'll be back by here real soon," Doc G told her.

He asked to use the phone, and Irene patted his cheek. "You know where it is," she told him.

She and I walked on out towards the corral where the four horses were at.

"Your house is beautiful," I told her.

"Thank you. I've lived here since I was married. A lot of years ago," she said, with a smile.

I couldn't contain my curiousity. I would, I decided, ask her just one question.

"Have you known Doc G for a long time?"

"Longer than either one of us would like to admit," she said.

Which was, I thought, an answer that was not really an answer.

"You must know him really well," I said.

"Not as well as you'd think. G is a private sort of person. He doesn't open up too much." She looked at me. "Or have

you discovered that yet about him?"

I nodded. "He's sort of mysterious. He doesn't seem to like to talk about himself."

"Darlin', that's the understatement of the year!"

Doc G came up to the corral then. "What are you two gossiping about?" he asked.

"We're mulling over your character flaws, and your charms," Irene told him.

"Either one of those could take all day to discuss," Doc G said lightly, and Irene and I exchanged a smile.

I led the horses into the trailer. and when Doc G was getting ready to close the trailer door, he turned to Irene.

"Want a couple of minutes alone with them?" he asked quietly.

Irene shook her head. "I've already said my goodbyes to them," she said, and I saw her eyes glisten with tears. To her credit, though,

she recovered, and stood stoically while we prepared to go.

"I enjoyed talking with you, Harlie," she told me, shaking my hand again.

"I enjoyed it, too," I assured her. "Thank you for getting the Coke for me."

Irene nodded, and turned to Doc G. "You'll come back soon, won't you?" she asked him.

"I will," he said simply.

I felt as though I was out of place, that it was a private moment. I went to climb into the cab of the truck.

When Doc G was behind the wheel, and we were setting out along the road, he said,

"With the wind, it's going to take a bit longer to get home, pulling a load like this."

I nodded in agreement.

"We'll stop for lunch here after a bit," he said, and I nodded again.

"Okay." After a couple of minutes, I said, "I like Irene. She's nice."

"She is that," he said.

I thought he wasn't going to say anymore, but he went on.

"She was one of the founders of the GRA."

I looked at him, my interest peaked. "The Girls Rodeo Association? Really? That's awesome. I've read about that. They

really had to fight the cowboys in order to be able to compete."

"They had their battles alright," he agreed. "She was a winning barrel racer in her time, too."

"Was she?"

He nodded and I thought for a few minutes, remembering past snippets of things that I'd read in Evan's rodeo magazines.

The possibility struck me then. First name of Irene. A winning barrel racer in the 1950s.

I sat up really straight in the seat, turning to face him. "There was a barrel racer named Irene Sampell in the 50's. She was one of the

best ever. A couple of her records still haven't been beaten."

"Is that so?" he asked, casually, and I could tell he was teasing me a little.

"Is she THAT Irene Sampell?" I asked, in excitement.

"That's her," he said.

"Wow." I sat back a little in my seat again. I thought to myself that that might explain some of the antiques and size of the house. Even back

that many years ago, the money from her winnings would have been substantial. If she'd saved, and invested, she would have had quite a sum.

"Well, she's really nice," I said again.

I asked Doc G to talk more about his childhood in Ireland, but he shook his head.

"Enough of that today," he said, and I realized that he had closed up again. No more stories or letting me see thru his mysterious

shell today.

As we passed thru one of the small towns on the way back to Murphys, Doc G slowed down a little, and pointed towards

a diner. "Ready for some lunch?" he asked me.

I said that I was, and he pulled into the parking lot and stopped.

We got out and Doc G grabbed a white envelope from the dash of the truck. I followed him as he led the way to a table, and

when the waitress came, he ordered a roast beef special, and when she looked at me, I said I would take the same. I actually felt

hungry.

When we were sitting, waiting for our food, Doc G laid the envelope on the table, and pushed it across to me.

"Take a look," he said.

When I opened the package I saw that it was the pictures I'd taken of the creep with all the puppies.

A couple of them weren't the best, probably because of the misty rain that had started, but the others were clear, and the

telephoto lens had done its job. The pictures showed the puppies jammed together in the pens, and though it was hard to be certain,

there didn't seem to be any dog houses or shelter for them to go into.

The back side of the house showed trash and litter thrown into the yard. And more pens with adult dogs.

I looked up at Doc G. "What do you think?" I asked.

"Well, I think that the pictures show enough to justify a call to the sheriff. I'll give him a call today, and he can come by to take

a look at these."

"And then the sheriff will go up there?"

"I don't know that for certain, but I think he probably will, yes."

"And then that creep will be arrested, right?" I asked, in satisfaction.

"I don't know, lass. He may or may not be."

"But why wouldn't they arrest him?" I asked, indignately. "He's committing a crime!"

"Technically, he's not," Doc G said, shaking his head.

"It's not a crime to have a puppy mill?!" I said, in disbelief. "Or have all those older dogs just to keep having more pups?!"

"What his intentions are is something that the sheriff or animal control will have to decide."

He sounded so calm, and matter-of-fact.

"But that's not right!" I insisted. "He should be hauled off to jail, and never be allowed to be around an animal ever again!"

"You're preaching to the choir here, Harlie Mac," he said.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"It means that I'm of the same opinion as you are about the fellow, but it's not up to us to decide what to do. That's up to

the law."

"Humph," I huffed. "Somebody should just go up there, when he's not there, and let all those dogs out of their pens!"

I wanted to withdraw my words as soon as they were out. But it was too late. Once again, I'd spoken in haste.

Doc G looked at me, even more stern looking than he'd been when he'd talked to me about going up and taking those

pictures.

"That someone isn't going to be you," he said, sounding fierce. "Is that plain enough, young lady? Or do I need to make

it even plainer?"

I wilted under that look. I've heard the old saying about wishing the floor would swallow you up, but I never really understood it,

until now. I wasn't sure just what Doc G meant about making it even plainer, but I WAS sure that I didn't want to find out.

"No, sir," I said, my cheeks hot. "That's plain enough."

"Alright," he said, and we subsided into silence until the waitress brought our food.

7

After lunch, and once on our way again, I was quiet. I found that I really hated it when Doc G called me out, and got on to

me that way. It made me feel bad inside, embarrassed, and sad at the thought of disappointing him. Similar to the way I feel

when Adam or Crane are upset with me.

Doc G, however, acted as if nothing had happened, talking to me about school and asking me questions.

"Is your mind still set on going to veterinary college?" he asked me.

"Yes. It is."

"Alright," he said.

When he didn't say anymore, I spoke up into the silence. "I hope I can do it. I'm keeping my grades up good right now."

"That's good," he said. "You have the most important quality for being an excellent vet."

"I do?" I looked at him, curiously. "What is it?"

"Your empathy and feeling for animals. Without that passion, all the high grades in the world wouldn't count for much."

"Thanks," I told him, giving him a small smile.

When we got back to Murphys, we drove to Doc G's house to unload the four horses. Even from the trailer, we could

hear the shrill ringing of the extra phone in the barn.

"I can do this if you want to answer it," I told him, and when he'd gone, I unloaded the horses, leading them into

the corral to put them with Doc G's old horse, Charlie. I pumped fresh water into the water trough, and then went to the barn to

get some oats for the horses.

I scooped up the oats into a bucket, and went to feed them. Doc G came out when he was finished with his phone call.

"I need to run up to Don Miller's. He's got a sick sow. Want to ride with me?" he offered.

"I can. Or I can go to the office, and clean up, and take calls for you."

"Alright. I'll drop you off there." He considered for a minute. "How will you get home?"

"Guthrie will come and get me."

When we were nearly back to the vet office, I spoke up, as a thought occurred to me.

"What are you doing on Wednesday? For Christmas, I mean?"

"I expect I'll eat a good bit. Unless a contrary cow or pig decides that I'm needed elsewhere."

Doc G pulled up in front of the office, and stopped. I got out, and then came around to the driver's side window.

"Come over and eat Christmas dinner with us." I invited.

"I have somewhere I have to be. But I thank you for the invitation."

I wrinkled my brow. I wondered where it was that he had to be. And if he would be with other people, or

by himself.

Doc G looked at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet,

taking out three 20 dollar bills and a 10 dollar bill, handing them to me.

Seventy dollars! Even with the raise in pay he'd given me recently, this was double my usual daily money earned.

I looked at him in question.

"A Christmas bonus," he said.

"Thank you," I said, I felt suddenly, very emotional. Whether it was because it was nearly Christmas, or the bonus money, or because I still felt the sting of his rebuke earlier, I didn't know.

"Are you sure you won't come to our house Wednesday?" I asked again. "I don't want you to be alone."

Doc G's eyes crinkled around the corners. He reached out the window, and cupped my chin in his hand.

"Darlin' Harlie," he said. "You're sweet to worry about me. But I'll be fine." He pulled his hand away. "You have a good holiday

and I'll see you in a few days, alright?"

"Alright."

"Don't forget to lock up when you leave," he reminded me.

I stood there watching, as he drove down the street and out of town.

7


	23. Creepy Frank

I called home to let them know that I'd need a ride. Hannah said she would tell Guthrie, and I told her to tell him that he could wait until

Kristin was done with her shift, and he could pick us both up at the same time. I knew there was plenty of work around the office that

I could do to stay busy.

Hannah said alright, that she'd tell Guthrie, but she sounded so tired that I got worried.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

"I'm fine, sweetie," she said, but she didn't sound very convincing.

"Maybe you should sit down and put your feet up," I suggested. "You're not doing laundry, are you?" I accused.

"No, hon. I'm not doing laundry. And I'm getting ready to sit down in just a few minutes."

"Okay. Cause I'll do all the laundry when I get home. Is Adam there?"

"He's outside somewhere. I'm fine. I promise."

"Well, alright," I said, and reluctantly told her goodbye and hung up.

I cleaned the office of the usual clutter, then swept and mopped, in between taking calls and writing down messages. In the

back I was straightening the shelves, when Guthrie's voice called from the front.

"Har! You here?"

"Back here!" I hollered back.

He came thru, making his way to me. "What's shakin'?" he asked me, comically.

"Just finishing up. How long before Kristin gets done?"

"Another thirty minutes or so. We've got time."

"Okay," I said. "Come on," I motioned him to follow me, and we went outside.

"I just need to feed the horse that's here," I told him.

As I fed and watered the horse in one of the stalls, Guthrie leaned in to pat the horse's neck.

"Whose horse is this?" he asked.

"J.R. Riggs."

"Oh. He's a good lookin' horse."

"Yeah." I returned the bucket to where it belonged. "Did you see Hannah before you left?"

"Yeah. For a minute."

"How did she seem to you?"

"She's tired. And I know her back hurts. She didn't say it does, but I can tell, you know?"

I nodded in agreement. We'd both learned to read Hannah's unspoken signs of pain and discomfort during this

pregnancy.

"I'm worried about her," I confided. "Her feet are so swollen."

"I know."

We exchanged a look, and then Guthrie said, "Women have been havin' babies for a long time. She'll be fine."

I could tell by the way that he said it, that he was just repeating something, in order to sound assured, and make me

feel better.

I gave him the look of a sister that knows exactly what he was up to. He gave me a crooked grin.

"No dice, huh?" he asked.

"Nope. You're just as worried as I am," I told him, as we walked towards the building.

"I am. I'm not gonna lie." he admitted.

Then in a quick burst he said, "But we can't show it. We've gotta act normal."

"YOU act normal?" I teased him. "Don't ask the impossible of yourself, Guth."

"Ha ha," he said, grabbing me to rub his knuckles over the top of my head. "Funny, hyena!"

I was struggling, and we were laughing, so much so that Guthrie dropped me, and then nearly fell on me.

We were both out of breath as we went inside, and I locked the back door, then Guthrie helped turn off

all the lights, and we locked the front door, and I put the key back in the hiding spot.

We climbed in the truck, to drive just 400 ft. to the front of the café, and for some reason that made us start

laughing again.

"Want to go in to see Marie?" I asked him.

"Naw. I'll just sit here. You can if you want."

"No, I'll just wait out here, too."

We sat there, waiting on Kristin, and watching people walk past in front of us.

"I wish Kristin was comin' back to the house with us," Guthrie said, with a sigh.

"I know. Me, too." I twisted in the seat to look at him. "Do you think they'll let her stay with us?"

"I dunno. I hope so."

"Crane would," I said.

"Yeah," Guthrie said, in agreement. "But it's not up to just him."

"Adam said that he'd think about it, though. And that they would all talk about it."

"Yeah. If they knew how bad it was for her at home-" Guthrie hesitated.

"Crane knows. They all know."

"Yeah. They know, but they don't really understand," Guthrie insisted.

I thought Guthrie was being a little unfair. And he was looking so forlorn that I spoke up firmly, "Give it a chance, Guthrie. That's

what you'd tell me. Maybe you could talk to Adam alone about it, and tell him how you feel. And I'll talk to Crane. And Brian."

"Yeah. That's a good idea." He sighed. "I mean, I know it's kind of a lot to ask of the family, especially with Iggy coming soon. But

I just hope they really do consider it."

Kristin came out then, and Guthrie slid out so she could settle herself in the middle between us.

"How was your shift?" I asked her.

"Long," she said. "I'm glad I'm done. Until tomorrow, anyway."

"You're working tomorrow?"

"Yep. Marie says she's usually pretty busy on Christmas Eve, during the day."

I wondered briefly if maybe I could work tomorrow for Marie, too. When school started back up, I wouldn't have the opportunity to

work all these extra hours for Doc G, and Marie. I had to take advantage of it while I could.

"Does she need any more help?" I asked Kristin.

"She might. I don't think Carla can stay all day."

I nodded, thinking I would call Marie when I got home.

When we got to the trailer park, Guthrie went up the rows until we reached Kristin's trailer house. He stopped and put the truck

in park.

"Frank's here," Kristin said, eyeing the blue car parked in front. Her tone said it all. Disgust, Frustration. Resignation.

We all sat there, not moving to get out, and not saying anything for a few minutes.

"Can you come over tomorrow night for Christmas Eve?" I asked her.

"Yeah," Guthrie said immediately. "I can pick you up after your shift at Marie's."

I could tell Kristin wanted to come by her expression. Her face lit up at the thought of it. Then she shrugged lightly.

"I'll have to see how mom is," she said. "But, yeah, that sounds good to me."

After another couple of minutes, she sighed. "Guess I better go in."

"Want me to come in with ya?" Guthrie asked her.

"You don't have to," Kristin said.

"Well, I know that," Guthrie said, with a grin that was meant to make Kristin smile. "But I want to."

"Okay. Come in and say hi to mom. You, too, Harlie."

I didn't want to. I had no desire to see Frank. But I said okay, because I didn't want to make her feel bad.

We were all up the front porch steps when the door opened, nearly in our faces. Frank stood there. I hadn't seen

him for a long time, and he'd gained a lot of weight. His face was puffy looking and his eyes were red-rimmed. He had a

glass of something in his hand.

"Thought I heard something out here," he said. He stepped back a couple of steps, and then turned to sit down

in a recliner chair.

We all stepped inside, and Kristin sat her bag down on the couch.

"So you decided to come home, huh?" Frank asked Kristin, staring at her in what I thought was a mean way.

"Where's mom?" Kristin asked him, ignoring his question.

"Your mother is out," Frank said, with an exaggerated flourish of his hand.

"When is she going to be back?"

"I have no idea."

"I talked to her this morning. She didn't say anything about going anywhere," Kristin said.

"Well, you'll have to hear all of that from her when you see her, my dear," he said, downing the remainder

of the amber-colored liquid.

Kristin turned to Guthrie and I. "I'm going to see if mom left me a note in my room," she said, and went down

the narrow hallway.

Guthrie and I stood there, silent and waiting. I tried to avoid Frank's eye, but it was next to impossible not to see

that he was staring in our direction.

"You've grown up a lot since I saw you, Hayley," Frank said.

"Harlie," I said, and he blinked at me thru bloodshot eyes.

"What?"

"It's Harlie. Not Hayley."

"Sure, sure, I knew that," he said. "Harlie sounds like a name for a boy." He gave me another once-over, and it was

obvious that he was staring at me, and not at Guthrie. "It'd take a blind man to mistake you for a boy, though."

I didn't miss the way Guthrie's fists clenched and his shoulders squared, in what I knew was anger.

I put my hand on his back and pressed hard. My signal for him to keep quiet, and not blow his top.

Guthrie made a sort of huffing sound.

"How many boys you have on the string?" Frank continued talking to me. "Good lookin' as you are, I bet it's a lot, huh?"

"That's not any of your business," Guthrie said, his voice taut with anger.

Frank blinked, changing his focus from me to Guthrie. "You gettin' smart with me, boy?"

Guthrie stood silent, and I'm not sure what would have happened then, except Kristin came back down the hall.

"Let's go out on the porch," she told us, and when we were all three standing outside, she said,

"Mom left me a note. She said she was going to see a friend."

"When will she be home?" I asked her.

"She didn't say." Kristin looked at me and then at Guthrie. "It will probably be anytime now."

I knew, and I figured Guthrie knew, too, that Kristin was fibbing. She had no confidence that her mother would

be home soon.

"Do you want to stay here?" I asked her. "With Frank, I mean?"

"It'll be fine." Kristin raised her chin and said, "He already drunk. He'll keep drinking the rest of the day and evening. I'll just

stay in my room. I'm really tired, anyway."

I couldn't for the life of me, figure out why her mother had wanted her to come home, only to then

be gone herself, leaving Kristin alone with Frank. Who does that?

I looked at Guthrie. The muscles at the side of his jaw were working in and out. He was good and mad. Then, suddenly, with

such assurance and authority that he reminded me of Adam, he said, "You're not stayin' here. Not without your mom. Go leave her

a note and tell her you'll be at our house."

Kristin and I stood there staring at Guthrie. He opened the door, ushering Kristin inside. "Go on. Leave her a note. I'll wait here

by the door. Har, you go wait in the truck."

When we both still hesitated, staring at him, Guthrie said, "Move. Both of you. Now."

Well, we went. I waited anxiously in the truck, hoping that Frank wouldn't provoke Guthrie any further, or try to

prevent Kristin from leaving.

I sighed in relief when they came down the stairs, Kristin again carrying her backpack of clothes. Guthrie opened the truck door,

and Kristin slid into the middle seat again. Guthrie slammed the door, and had his hand on the ignition when the door of the

trailer flew open, and Frank came out onto the porch.

"Good riddance!" he hollered. "Why don't you just stay with your McFaddens?! Your mom and I would be better off!"

I winced at his hurtful words. I took Kristin's hand and squeezed. She squeezed back. When I looked at her, her

face was so pale that I was worried for her. Guthrie started the truck, put it in reverse, and pulled out, faster than he needed to.

We drove in silence for a few minutes.

"Mom will probably call when she gets home and sees the note," Kristin said, trying to sound casual.

"Sure," I agreed, trying to sound positive. "She will."

"Frank won't even remember saying those things when he sobers up," she said.

We looked at each other, and then at Guthrie. He was driving with a tight grip on the steering wheel, staring straight

ahead.

"You're not goin' back there," he said, his voice quiet, but determined.

7

When we got home, Guthrie parked near the barn, near where Adam and Daniel were sitting on the tail gate of the old truck, talking.

Brian and Crane were there, too, leaning against the truck.

"Good," Guthrie said in satisfaction. "They're all together."

He opened the door to let Kristin out, and I climbed out the other side.

"There you are," Adam said, as we walked over to them all.

"What's up, Kris-10?" Crane asked her, with a welcoming smile.

"Hi," Kristin managed.

We all three stood there, in a tight line, Guthrie holding one of Kristin's hands, and me holding her other one.

I guess that our demeanor and facial expressions spoke for themselves. Kristin still looked pale and sad, I looked worried, and

Guthrie had the stance and jaw set of a McFadden that wasn't backing down.

"What's goin' on?" Adam asked us, looking concerned.

"Kristin needs to stay here," Guthrie said.

They all looked confused, not so much, I think, by Guthrie's words, as by his hard tone.

"What's wrong?" Crane asked, laying a hand on Guthrie's shoulder.

"She just can't be there," Guthrie said. "Not with Frank."

They all exchanged a look between each other.

"Sounds like we need to talk," Adam said.

"Yeah. I want to talk to all of you," Guthrie said.

Guthrie dropped Kristin's hand, and went back into his 'lord of the manor'

boss role.

"Har, take Kristin inside," he ordered.

I wanted to be out there while Guthrie talked to them, but I didn't argue. I knew it was best that Kristin didn't hear what

all Guthrie had to say, or what the guys said in answer.

"Okay," I said, and pulled on Kristin, leading her to the house.

When we went into the house, Hannah and Clare were sitting on the couch, and Hannah had her feet propped up on the

foot stool.

"Hi, girls," Hannah greeted us, and Clare said, "Hi!" brightly.

Kristin and I both said hi. If either one of them were surprised to see Kristin back again so soon, they didn't show it.

"How are you two? Tired from work?" Hannah asked.

"Yeah. We both need showers," I said. "You want to go first?" I asked Kristin.

"Okay. I'll get the smell of French fries out of my hair," She gave Hannah and Clare a small smile and started up the stairs.

"Kristin?" Hannah said. "You're welcome to use the bathtub in my bathroom. Soak a while."

Kristin, paused at the foot of the stairs, nodded. "Thanks, Hannah. I think I will."

"There's some bubble stuff in the cabinet," Hannah told her.

"Okay," Kristin said, and headed upstairs.

I stood there for a minute, looking at both of them.

"How did you know she needed to soak in the tub?" I asked Hannah lightly.

"She looked like a girl that needs a bubble bath to sooth her soul," Hannah answered.

"You're pretty smart," I said.

Hannah took her feet from the footstool, and patted it. "Sit down," she said.

I obeyed, sitting down and facing them both.

"Something's happened." Hannah said. "What is it?"

Briefly, I gave a summary of what had happened when we took Kristin home.

"Oh, no," Clare breathed.

"Guthrie got all tough and said she wasn't staying there without her mother."

"Good for Guthrie," Clare said.

Hannah took my hand in her own. "You felt uncomfortable? With Frank?" she asked me, and I understood quite well

what she was getting at.

"Yes."

"Has he ever been inappropriate with Kristin? In a sexual way?"

"No. She's never said so. But he's mean. And he's scary. She never knows what kind of mood he'll be in, or what

will set him off."

Clare nodded, and I knew she was thinking of her ex brother-in-law, that had been so abusive to her sister.

"Is it possible that he might have been inappropriate? And that she just hasn't confided in you about it?" Hannah asked.

I thought for a moment. I didn't want to think that Kristin would have kept that to herself, but I wasn't sure, either.

"I don't think so," I maintained.

"Well, even if he hasn't done that, she shouldn't have to be subjected to his drunken fits," Hannah said, her voice definite.

I looked at Hannah hopefully. "Can she stay, then?"

"Until her mother calls, yes, absolutely."

"Then, after that, what?" I asked.

"We'll cross that when it comes," Hannah said.

That wasn't what I wanted to hear. But I didn't argue, because Hannah went on.

"Go and get a snack now," she told me.

"I'm not hungry," I said.

"I didn't ask if you were hungry. Go get some crackers or fruit."

I got to my feet with a sigh, and went to the kitchen, taking a banana from the fruit bowl on the table.

As I peeled it, I went out the back door, going around the yard to the front. I saw that the group of

serious looking brothers was still gathered there, clustered around the tailgate of the truck.

I headed that way, nibbling on my banana. When I got there, they all gave me a look. Daniel beckoned me to him,

and when I was in front of him, he slid off the tail gate, standing to wrap an arm around my neck.

"Tough times, huh?" Daniel said quietly.

"Yes."

"Where's Kristin?" Guthrie asked.

"She's soaking for awhile."

"Okay," he said, with a nod.

I guessed that Guthrie had shared his concerns, because they were all quiet now. I waited, quiet too, until Adam

turned to me.

"What's your thoughts on this whole situation?" he asked me.

"The same as Guthrie," I said. "It's bad there. Scary." I hesitated. "She doesn't deserve it."

"Of course not," Adam said, in agreement.

Brian looked at me keenly. "What about Frank?" he asked me. "Comin' from a young girl's point of view?"

"He's a ass," I said without preamble. "He's scary, and he gives me the creeps. I don't know how Kristin has stood

it as long as she has." I shivered a little. "He made me feel-" I hesitated.

"He made you feel how, peach?" Brian prodded.

I hesitated another moment, and Adam said, "You can tell us."

When I looked towards Crane, he gave me an encouraging nod.

"The way he was looking at me, he made me feel like he could see right thru my shirt," I said, candidly. I was a little embarrassed, but

I wanted to be honest, so they'd know how scummy of a person that Frank was.

To their credit, none of my brothers looked embarrassed at my honesty. They all looked angry, and grim, too, and I knew that was

because they didn't like the fact that Frank had made me feel that way.

"He said stuff to me, too," I added. "Stuff that he shouldn't be saying."

"Yeah," Adam said. "Guthrie told us that."

Daniel wrapped both his arms around me from behind. "Don't go there again," he said, speaking up for the first time.

"That's right," Adam agreed. "No matter what happens from here on with Kristin, I don't want you goin' there anymore."

"I won't," I promised. "If his car is there, I won't go in."

"Even if his car's not there," Daniel corrected me.

"Exactly," Adam said. "He could come home anytime. So not at all, Harlie. Understood?"

"Understood," I said.

Adam looked toward Guthrie. "You either, Guth. No point to you and Frank crossing paths again. No good will come of it, and I

don't want you gettin' yourself into trouble. If you pick Kristin up or drop her off, you stay outside. Alright?"

For a moment Guthrie didn't answer, and I knew what he was thinking. He was thinking that if he had anything to say about it,

that Kristin would be with us, and wouldn't be back at the trailer park, to have to meet him out front.

"Guthrie," Adam said, sternly.

Brian cupped the back of Guthrie's neck with a hand, looking into Guthrie's face.

Inside myself, I was begging Guthrie silently to answer, to say alright, to agree. He wasn't going to help things for Kristin by

being hardheaded.

"I won't go in the house again," he said.

I knew what he meant by that, too. There would be, in Guthrie's thoughts, no need to go inside Kristin's trailer house. Because

she was not going back there. At least in his mind.

Adam studied Guthrie for a long moment. I knew by the look on Adam's face that he was well aware of what Guthrie was

thinking. He didn't say anything about it, though, or call Guthrie out on it.

"What about Kristin, though?" I asked, in a quiet voice.

They all looked at me questioningly.

"I mean, you won't let Guthrie go because he might fight with Frank, and get hurt or in trouble. And you won't let me go because

Frank's a 1000 on the creep-o-meter. But Kristin has to go back? That's not fair."

For a minute I thought I was in trouble. Adam frowned and Brian's eyebrows were all scrunched together.

"I'm not sassing you guys," I said, not only to keep myself from trouble, but also so that they'd know I didn't mean

it in disrespect.

"I know," Adam said, and he sighed. "And no, it's not fair. It's not fair that any kid has to live with that kind of

bullshit. But, our priority," he waved a hand around the circle to include Crane, Brian, himself, and Daniel, "all of us,

our priority has to be to you and Guthrie first. You're ours."

I wanted to say something more, probably something that would have come out a lot more sassy sounding. Something about Kristin,

and why didn't they understand how she'd like to be somebodys, too. Somebody that would want her to be safe.

But Daniel, even though my back was to him, was obviously reading me as well as ever, and could tell I was getting ready to

shoot off my mouth. He tightened his arms around my middle.

"Hush," he said, against my ear, so softly that I don't think anyone else heard him.

So I stayed quiet.

Adam pushed himself off the truck tailgate. "Kristin's welcome here. We're all in agreement on that. But right now, tonight, I don't

think we should make any decisions. Let's see what her mom has to say first, when she calls."

Brian nodded in agreement.

"I think the same thing," Crane said.

We all trooped into the house together. When we went thru the front door into the living room, it was to see Hannah and Clare

still sitting on the couch, and now Kristin was perched on the footstool where I'd been sitting earlier.

Kristin stood up as we came in. She was wearing clean jeans and a sweatshirt, and her hair was still wet from the bath.

She looked, I thought, a little worried as she faced all of them.

Brian chucked her under the chin. "Don't look so scared, and wide-eyed," he told her, sounding a little gruff, but I knew

that by now Kristin recognized his gruffness for what it really was. Care. And concern.

Adam stopped in front of Kristin, looking down at her.

"Thank you for letting me come back tonight," Kristin said, her voice a little shaky. With emotion, I knew.

"You are very welcome," Adam said, and he smiled at her. A reassuring smile. His smile faded just a bit. And more seriously,

he said, "You're safe here, kiddo."

Tears that I knew she'd been pushing back, sprung to Kristin's eyes. "I know that, Adam," she said.

Adam leaned down a little, so that he was more face to face with her. "We all care about you. Every one of us. We're goin'

to see what your mom says when she calls. Then we'll go from there. Fair enough?"

Kristin swallowed, and brushed at her wet cheek. She managed a nod. "Yes. Fair enough."

"Alright, then," Adam said, with another smile, and then went to sit down beside Hannah on the couch. I was so grateful

to him right then. He'd reassured Kristin when she was feeling frightened and unsure, he'd welcomed her, and made his

support and care known. He hadn't made any promises. But he'd let her know he was in her corner, and that he would

try to help.

Crane looked at Kristin then, with a wink. "I'm the chef tonight," he told her. "How about helping me stir up something to feed

this mob?"

"Sure, Crane," Kristin told him, looking happier and more relaxed than she had since we'd left her house.

As she and Crane went off to the kitchen, I started towards the stairs to go take a shower.

I passed in front of Adam, stepping around his long legs. Our eyes met, and I stopped walking for a moment.

I smiled at him, and he smiled back, giving a slight nod, and a wink, that he understood what I was saying with my eyes, even though

I didn't say it out loud.

As I went on up the stairs, I thought that it was sort of mixed up that people were always asking Adam how he felt about becoming a father soon, and asking him what kind of a dad that he thought he would be.

If they'd asked me, I would have told them he'd been a father for a long time already. And I would have said that

he was the best kind of dad there could ever be.

7


	24. How to hogtie Guthrie

By the time I came back downstairs after my shower, barefoot, and with my curls piled on top of my head in a messy bun, Ford and

Evan had come in. Everybody was starting to get their plates of food, and gather in the living room, casual style, around the

Christmas tree.

When I made my way into the kitchen, Crane was still there, and Ford was piling his plate high with beef fajitas and cottage

cheese.

"Yummy," I said, pushing my way around Ford.

"Hey, you," he objected.

"Women and children first," I quoted at him.

"Fine," he said, stepping back. "Beauty before brains."

There were more Christmas presents under the tree now than there had been earlier. After I finished eating, I set my plate

on the coffee table, and started snooping, checking the weight of the packages and shaking them.

Evan stopped in the middle of the room, his empty plate in his hand. "Hey, now," he said, "not all of those are yours,

you know. That one in your hand is mine. Put it down."

I stopped my investigation to look at him accusingly. "How would you know it was yours unless you've been snooping, too?"

Evan grinned, and Brian said, "Busted, Ev."

As Evan and I both took our plates to the kitchen, I asked him if I could look thru his stack of rodeo magazines.

"Why do you wanna do that?" he asked.

"I'll show you when I find it. It's something really cool. Can I bring them down here?"

"Sure. Whatever," he told me.

I went up to his bedroom. When Ford's not home, Evan tends to spread his mess around the whole room. Then when

Ford gets home, he cleans, or as he puts it, "shovels out" the half of the room that he uses. So, as usual, Evan's side was

a pig sty, and Ford's was neat.

I rooted thru the magazines, stacked in a corner, and also some in the closet, until I found five that I thought would have

the articles I was looking for. I remembered reading it, but I just couldn't remember the exact one that I'd seen it in.

I went back downstairs. Daniel was getting his guitar out. Brian was starting a fire in the fireplace.

I sat on the floor, next to the fireplace hearth, flipping thru the magazines until I found what I was looking for.

"Evan, come here," I told him, and when he came over, he sat down on the rock hearth.

"What?" he asked.

I handed him the magazine, featuring the story and photos of one Irene Sampell, champion barrel racer, and one of the

founders of the GRA. Some of the photos were older, of when she actually performed, and some others were of her in later years. I

recognized the fence she was posed beside as the one in front of her big house. The one that Adam would admire.

"I met her today," I told Evan, in excitement, "when I was with Doc G."

"No kidding?" Evan asked, looking suitably impressed. "Where at?"

"She has a big ranch outside of Modesto."

I told Evan all about Irene, and how nice she was.

"Her house is huge, and full of antiques," I said.

"What's the ranch like?" Evan asked, not interested in houses or antiques.

"I didn't get to see all that much, but from what I did see, the fences are really nice. You guys would all be

impressed, I know."

"What's that, sugar?" Adam asked me, from the end of the couch where he was sitting.

I took the magazine from Evan, and went to sit on the arm of the couch, handing it to Adam,

to point out the fence.

"Isn't that the kind of fence you want?" I asked him.

"Yeah. That's it. When my ship comes in."

Hannah leaned over to look at the pictures. "And you met her?" she asked.

I nodded. "She's nice. I guess her and Doc are old friends. I don't know where they met."

"She's very attractive," Hannah said.

As the magazine was passed around to everybody, Kristin spoke up. "What's the GRA?" she asked.

"Girl's Rodeo Association," I told her. "Females couldn't always compete in rodeos. The cowboys didn't

want them around."

"Oh, I think the cowboys wanted females around," Evan said, with a smirk, and Hannah gave him a look.

"That's enough from you," she told him, and Evan grinned.

"This is really cool," Kristin said, reading over the article. "I never knew about all of this. And this Irene? She

was one of the best barrel racers at the time?"

"She was one of the best ones ever," I told her. "Not just at that time. Some of her records that she set have never

been broken yet."

Kristin and Clare and I were still reading over the magazine articles when the phone rang, interrupting the

happy family time we were all having.

Kristin and I, sitting on the floor close together, looked at each other. We both knew that it was likely her

mother calling. Adam got to his feet, stepping around us, to go to the phone.

It seemed like everybody got quiet to listen. After Adam said hello, he went on talking, and it was

obvious that it was Kristin's mom.

"Hey, Linda. This is Adam."

"Yes. She is." A moment of quiet, and then, "She's fine."

More talking on the other end, and then Adam said, "I agree. Alright, let me get her for you."

He took the phone from his ear, still holding it, and said, "Kristin, your mom wants to talk to you."

Kristin held the magazine in her hand, and looked at Adam, but didn't move right away. She just sat there, cross-legged

on the floor beside me. I was curious why she wasn't getting up. I gave her a nudge in the ribs.

"She'll take Frank's side," she said, very low.

"Kristin!" Adam said. He sounded impatient, and he was frowning.

Kristin jumped a little, startled.

Crane leaned forward from his spot on the couch behind us, and gave Kristin a light tap on the shoulder, and she

turned to look up at him.

"Stop acting like that. Go talk to your mom," he said, his voice firm.

Kristin looked as if she might cry, but she got to her feet, going to Adam and taking the phone from him.

Everybody started talking again then, so even though I tried to listen, I couldn't really hear very much of the conversation.

When I looked over towards Kristin, she was motioning me to come over to her.

"Okay," she was saying, as I walked up next to her. She said, "Adam, mom wants to talk to you again."

Adam got up and came back to take the phone.

Kristin and I stood there, listening, as Adam said, "Linda?" Then, "Uh huh. Well, yeah, I think tomorrow morning's fine." He

asked Kristin, "Do you work tomorrow morning at Marie's?"

When Kristin nodded at him, he said, "Yeah, she does," into the receiver.

More listening on Adam's end, and then he said, "That might not be the best thing. Let me call Marie."

Kristin's mother talked some more, and then Adam said, "At seven? Alright. We'll see you then."

Adam hung up the phone, and put his hands in his pockets, giving us both an appraising look.

"We're going to talk to your mom in the morning," he said.

"You and Hannah?" Kristin asked.

The room had gone quiet behind us.

Adam turned to look towards Hannah. "Hannah and I, yeah."

Guthrie came to stand beside Kristin, popping his knuckles.

"Okay," Kristin said, quietly. She looked to Crane, who was standing close by. "Will Crane come, too?"

"Do you want me to?" Crane asked.

"Yes. Please," Kristin said.

"Then I'll come," Crane assured her.

"Where will you talk to her? At my house?" she asked.

"No. I don't think that's a good idea. We'll meet early at the café, before Marie opens for business, so we can have some

privacy," Adam said.

"Okay."

"I think, and your mom agrees, that the adults should talk first, and then you can come in and speak your piece. Sound alright?"

Kristin nodded. "Yes."

"Alright." Adam gave her shoulder a pat.

"I'll drive her in," Guthrie spoke up. "And wait outside with her, until she comes in to talk."

Adam nodded in acknowledgement, and agreement, and started back to the couch.

"I'll come, too," I announced, and when nobody disagreed, or said that I couldn't, I looked at Kristin. She gave me a small

smile and a nod.

"You and Guthrie can come in with me," Kristin said, really quietly.

"Okay," I said, and then turned. "Adam?"

Adam turned from the middle of the room where he'd walked back to. He faced the three of us, Guthrie, Kristin and I.

"No." His voice was adamant. Firm.

I looked at him, wide-eyed. "I didn't even ask anything yet," I protested.

"I know what the question was going to be. And the answer is no. You can ride in with them if you want, but then

you're going to wait outside with Guthrie."

"It's alright, Adam," Kristin spoke up. "I don't mind-I'd like it if they came in, too-"

"Kristin," Adam said, talking over her, and she went silent, looking at him.

"I know Guthrie and Harlie want to support you," he said. "But tomorrow is not about them. It's

about straightening some things out with your mom, and letting her know how you feel. Seeing if we can make things better.

I don't want your mother to feel like she's being overloaded with McFaddens. Hannah and Crane and I are it."

Kristin looked as though she wanted to argue, and I guess Adam could tell that.

"Kristin," he said again, a little more forcefully, and Kristin subsided.

"Okay," she said, with a sigh.

After that, the evening was a little more subdued. We all ate some popcorn and watched the Disney movie, 'The Shaggy Dog'

on television.

Evan said he was planning on picking up his new truck the next morning. So, after the movie was over, I went upstairs,

and sat down on my bed, counting out my money. With all the extra hours I'd put in for Doc G, and then the Christmas bonus

he'd given me, I was pretty impressed with my stash of cash. I had enough to pay Evan most of what I owed him, though not

quite enough to pay Daniel back for the parts he'd bought for the Beast. I took the money for Evan downstairs, and when he

went to the kitchen, I followed him. I didn't want to make a big thing about giving him the money in front of everyone else.

Evan had his head stuck in the refrigerator, and pulled out the milk. I took a glass down from the cabinet, and handed it to

him.

"Thanks," he said, and poured some milk into the glass.

I held out the wad of money.

When he looked at me in question, I said, "Most of my half that we agreed on. It's about twenty-five dollars short."

Evan reached out to take the money from me. "Okay. Thanks."

"I'll be able to give you the rest by next weekend."

"Okay," he said, again. "You can space it out some if you want, you know."

"It's okay. I'd rather get it taken care of."

Evan nodded and tucked the money into his pocket.

"Do you think you'll like this truck as well as you did your other one?" I asked.

"Yeah. It'll be alright, I think."

"Is Nancy coming over for Christmas Eve tomorrow night?" I asked, changing the subject.

"I think so."

"My present is for both of you to share," I told him. "I hope that's okay."

"Our present to you is from both of us, too," Evan said, with a grin.

"Cool."

Daniel came into the kitchen then. "Come on," he told Evan. "We're gonna play some cards."

"Okay." Evan drained his glass of milk, and set the glass in the sink. "I saw that guy today," he said, looking at me. "You know,

the one that dumped the pups?"

I looked at him, my curiousity antennae immediately shooting up. "You did?"

"Yeah. He was at the bar."

"Now, little brother," Daniel said, in a mock scolding voice. "What were you doin' in a bar?"

"I didn't happen to be in the bar," Evan enlightened him. "I was drivin' by."

"I've heard that story before," Daniel said, jokingly.

"It happens to be the truth," Evan insisted. He grinned. "At least this time it's the truth."

They were air jabbing at each other.

"He's a bad guy," I said. "I hope he gets arrested."

I had spoken without really thinking, a fact which I realized when they both stopped messing around and looked

at me.

"Nobody's goin' to arrest him for dumpin' pups in the creek," Evan told me.

"Oh, I know," I said, casually.

Daniel got in the refrigerator now, sorting thru the food on the shelves. "Where's those cookies you made?" he asked me.

"Those are long gone," I informed him.

"It figures," Daniel said, looking disappointed.

Evan leaned against the counter. "Why do you think he might get arrested, then?" he asked me, picking up the conversation.

"I heard he was running a puppy farm," I said, picking at my thumbnail in nonchalance.

"No kidding?" Evan asked.

I nodded.

"Where'd you hear that?" Evan demanded.

"Just around," I said.

"I didn't even know he lived around here," Evan said. "I thought he just came thru town once in a blue moon."

I shrugged, deciding I'd better shut up, before I gave myself away.

"You know he's a bad guy," I finished by saying. "Look what he did to Pearl."

"Pearl's better off now with Doc G, that's for sure," Evan agreed.

"How about stirring up some more cookies?" Daniel asked me.

"Right now?" I asked him, incredulously.

"Sure. Why not?"

"I can't eat any of them. So what's in it for me?" I asked, teasing him a little.

"An alternator and a fuel filter," Daniel said.

I stifled a giggle. "Okay. Point taken," I said, and went to get out the big mixing bowl.

7

Daniel and Evan ended up not playing cards. They hung around in the kitchen, watching me make the no bake

cookies, and sticking their fingers into the mix. Evan hoisted himself up onto the cabinet to sit, while Daniel stood beside the sink.

They kept talking to each other about Evan's job breaking horses for the rancher he works part-time for, and other stuff.

Eventually, Guthrie and Kristin wandered in, too, and then Crane. Crane started a fresh pot of coffee, and it started

to get a little rowdy, with Daniel and Crane having an arm wrestling contest, and everybody talking over each other.

Adam walked in, his eyebrows rising at the noisy scene. "What goes on here?" he asked.

"Yeah," Ford added, tagging behind him. "We wondered where everybody went to."

"This is where all the cool people are hangin' out," Guthrie told him.

"Okay," Ford said, with an eye roll.

So now everybody was in the kitchen, except for Hannah, who'd headed up to bed, and Brian and Clare, who had gone

for a walk. We were all having fun, laughing, and with everybody helping themselves to the cookies as they started to set up.

"Anytime you want to make some more of those molasses cookies, that'd be alright," Adam told me, giving me a nudge in the

side.

I smiled at him. "Maybe I'll do that."

When Kristin and I finally went up to bed, I was really tired. It had been a long day. Once we were settled in bed, we

talked for a long time, though. I told her stories she hadn't heard, about when Guthrie and I were really little, and she

told me some memories she had of her dad, and how much she missed him.

Sometimes, silence would ensue, but then one of us would start talking again. It was, according to my clock, after eleven p.m.,

when there was a light tap on the door, and Adam opened it, the light of the hallway behind him.

"You girls need to settle down and go to sleep," he said.

"Okay," I said.

"I'm having trouble getting to sleep," Kristin admitted.

Adam stepped a few feet further into the room. "Well, you need to try. It's gonna be an early morning. Stop

talking and try to relax."

"Okay," Kristin said.

"Alright. Goodnight," he said.

"Adam?" Kristin spoke up, her voice soft.

Adam turned, where he was paused in the doorway. "What?"

"Thank you. For all you've done for me."

Adam hesitated just momentarily, and then he said, "I haven't done anything yet, Kristin."

"You're trying to help. That's everything," she said simply.

Laying the way I was, I could see the profile of Adam's face, lit up by the hall light. I could see his chest heave with

a heavy sigh, and the way he held his hand to his chin, as if in thought.

"You're welcome," he said, finally, quietly.

He turned once more, to say in a mock, gruff voice, that didn't fool me at all, "No more talking in here tonight, or I'm gonna

be hanging two girls outside on the clothesline in the dark."

I giggled a little, and I could hear the smile in Kristin's voice as she said,

"Okay."

I echoed with, "Aye Aye, Captain."

"Night, girls," he said, and went out, shutting the door behind him.

"I wish I was a McFadden," Kristin said, low.

"We'll rope and hogtie Guthrie," I told her. "I'll heel and you head, and we'll get him to the altar, and then you can be a McFadden

for real."

At the thought of Guthrie being roped like a steer, we both started laughing, and put our heads under the

blankets to stifle the sound of our giggles.

When we stopped laughing, we lay in silence for awhile.

"I think I can sleep now," she said.

"Okay."

"You know what, though?" she asked.

"What?" I asked, pulling my quilt up around my neck.

"I really would like to marry Guthrie someday."

"That sounds like a good plan," I said, sleepily.

7


	25. A boot on a chain

Just like Adam had said, the next morning came early. I woke up with a headache, and the crawly, prickly feeling I get

sometimes when my blood sugar level is off.

"Are you okay?" Kristin asked me, as I sat on the edge of my bed, trying to get my bearings.

I thought what a good friend she was, noticing my demeanor and being concerned even though she had to be

nervous about the meeting with her mother.

"Just a little off this morning," I told her.

"Can I do something to help?" she asked, as somebody from downstairs, it sounded like Ford, called our

names to come to breakfast.

I shook my head. "I'll be okay, after I eat something, and drink some juice."

We went downstairs, where everybody else was already in their places at the table. I ate eggs, and a piece of ham, with

toast. I drank some orange juice, and then poured a cup of coffee for myself, as everybody started getting up, pushing in

their chairs.

"Ready, hon?" Adam asked Hannah.

"Yes," Hannah said, getting to her feet. She rubbed at her lower back absent-mindedly.

"I'll do up the dishes," Clare said.

Even though I'd eaten a really good breakfast, I was still feeling a little bit off. I went outside to catch up with Guthrie

and Kristin before anybody noticed.

Adam helped Hannah into Clare's car, which they were borrowing, and when they and Crane had gone, Guthrie and I waited

with Kristin for a few minutes longer.

We were just kind of hanging out by Guthrie's truck, when Brian walked nearby.

"Things will work out," he said. He said it to all three of us, but he mostly looked at Kristin.

"Right?" he prompted, when none of us answered.

I nodded at him, and Guthrie shrugged.

Kristin gave him a small smile. "Right."

Brian surveyed her, "I think you're probably ready for a break from all of us, aren't you?" he asked, giving her a wink.

Kristin shook her head, totally serious. "No, Brian."

"Not even to get away from me hollarin' like a grouchy bear?"

"I don't mind your hollering," she said, and Brian, who'd been teasing her a little bit, looked serious again.

He didn't say anything else, though. He just nodded at Kristin, and patted Guthrie's shoulder as he walked away towards

the barn.

All the way to town, Kristin talked. Mostly, Guthrie and I were just quiet, letting her talk.

"You two need to realize how lucky you are," she said. "You have people who genuinely care, who worry about

you, who put you first."

"Your mom loves you," I insisted.

"Yes. She does." Kristin looked thoughtful. "But she doesn't worry about me. Not that I want to worry her. I don't. I mean,

she doesn't worry about my happiness, or anything like that. And she doesn't put me first."

"Did she used to?" I asked.

"When I was younger she did. Even though her and my dad were crazy about each other, she always made me feel

like I was important, too. Even Buddy was different, then."

She sighed as the outskirts of Murphys came into view.

"I don't think it's going to go well," she said.

"Think positive," I told her.

"It has nothing to do with being positive or not positive," she corrected me. "Especially if she brings Frank."

"She wouldn't do that, would she?" I asked, alarmed.

Kristin shrugged. "She might. If he throws a fit or something."

"But he's the whole reason for the meeting with your mom," I protested.

"Yeah. But he'll want to make himself look good. He does that, sometimes."

We subsided into silence, as Guthrie pulled up alongside of Clare's car, parked in front of the café.

As, finally, after what seemed like a long time, we saw Crane coming to the door. He opened it, and stepped outside, closing the door

behind him.

We climbed out of the truck, all of us looking at him with questions in our eyes.

"Come on in now, Kristin," he said.

"What did she say?" Kristin asked him.

"She's worried. And she's emotional."

"Is Frank here?" Kristin asked nervously.

"No."

When Kristin hesitated, Crane said, "Just say what you feel. Your mom will understand."

"She won't pick me over Frank," Kristin said.

"Hey, now," Crane said, gently reproving.

"She won't," Kristin insisted stubbornly.

"Your mom's hurting, too," Crane said. "You need to be kind to her." He motioned with his hand. "Come on."

Kristin gave both Guthrie and I a glance, full of feelings, and then she went into the café ahead of Crane. Guthrie

and I looked at each other for a long moment.

"I won't let her go back there," Guthrie spoke up, his jaw set stubbornly. "Not if Frank's there."

"What does that mean?" I asked him, worried by his expression.

Guthrie said fiercely, "I'll take her somewhere first, before she has to go thru any more hell livin' with that bastard."

I was shaken by his vehement threat, though I still didn't quite understand what he was hinting at.

"You wouldn't run off? Guthrie?" I asked him, frightened.

Guthrie didn't answer immediately, and I stared at him, standing there, leaning against his truck door with his arms crossed.

I stood directly in front of him, standing on my tiptoes to look into his face.

"Guthrie James, answer me!" I poked him in the chest. "You wouldn't, would you?"

Guthrie stood there, taking my poking without a word of protest. His face was set in a hard expression.

"Guthrie!" I said, again. "You're scaring me!"

Guthrie sighed heavily. "No. I wouldn't." he said, finally.

"Okay," I said, relaxing a little in relief. He still looked completely gloomy, and I doubled my fists, aiming a couple

of fake punches at him. "Because I'd hate to have to hurt you."

Guthrie gave me a look, and then a tiny smile. Very tiny. Actually just a little lift of the corner of his mouth, but

still, better than nothing. "Yeah. Right."

We sat down on the front steps of the café, side by side, our elbows touching. Neither one of us said another word,

and I don't know how much time passed before the door opened behind us. We both stood up, and Kristin came out.

Her face was strained, but she tried to smile.

"You both look like you're about to burst," she said.

"Tell us what happened," I said.

"She was crying," Kristin said. "I didn't expect her to cry." She sighed. "She said she didn't realize how bad

it was for me, living with Frank."

"How could she not know?" I demanded.

"She says she thought her problems with Frank, the stress and all of that, was between her and Frank. She didn't realize

how much it was bothering me." Kristin bit at her lip. "She's sad because I want to stay with you all."

At that particular moment, I wasn't at all concerned with Kristin's mother's feelings. "But you get to stay?" I asked her, hopefully.

Guthrie stood there, listening in silence, popping his knuckles in nervous agitation.

"Adam, and Hannah, too, told her that I was welcome to stay. Crane even suggested that I could stay until Mom and Frank

got settled into things in San Francisco. At least finish out the school year here, and then go up there this summer, maybe."

God bless Crane, I thought in grateful appreciation. He was the best. And Adam and Hannah, too. Coming thru at the

last minute, offering our family and home to Kristin.

"That's fantastic!" I said in excitement.

"Mom wants me to come now with them," Kristin went on, and my hopes crashed. "She says she'll make it better for me. She's

going to tell Frank he has to get a job, and keep it, and stop drinking so much."

I didn't think any of that was going to happen. Not at all. But I didn't say it right out. Instead, I looked at Kristin in despair,

and at Guthrie for guidance.

"What did you say?" Guthrie asked her.

"Adam says that if mom wants me to go, that I should go. Hannah told mom that things can't go on the way that they

have been."

"And?" Guthrie prompted her.

"And so, I guess I'll go. See how it works out."

"Kristin, why?!" I demanded, in frustration.

"Because. Mom cried. She needs me. I want to give her another chance."

I thought Kristin had given her mother more than enough chances to buck it up, and be a good mother. I looked at

Guthrie, who was looking sad. But resigned. I waited. Wasn't he going to argue with Kristin?

"Then what?" he asked her.

"Then, if it works out, great. If it doesn't, I'll come back here. Adam told mom that I could. And she agreed."

Instead of acting outraged, Guthrie nodded slowly. "Okay," he said.

Okay? Okay! What the heck?

"What makes you think it will be any different if you go?" I burst out.

"I don't know that it will be," Kristin said calmly, sounding very mature.

"I don't understand you," I said.

"Oh, Harlie, I know you don't," she said, reaching for my hand, and squeezing it. "And with the family you have, you'll never

have to understand why I'm doing this."

I didn't know what she meant by that, but before I could ask her, she said, "Don't be mad at me, Harlie. Please. I don't think

I could stand it if you were."

"I'm not mad," I said, after a moment.

The door was opening again, and they all came out. Kristin's mother looked tired, and her eyes were red-rimmed.

She said hello to both Guthrie and I. Then, turning to Kristin, she said, "I'll see you after work, then?"

Kristin nodded.

For a minute, I panicked. Kristin was supposed to come to our house for our Christmas Eve celebration

that night! Then Hannah said, "We'll see you both about six tonight, then. alright?"

"That's sounds fine," Linda said.

So Linda went off to where her car was parked. Kristin gave Guthrie's arm a squeeze. She turned to Adam, and Hannah.

"Thank you," she said simply.

Hannah gave her a side hug. "I have high hopes for you and your mom," she told Kristin. "I want you to have those hopes, too."

Kristin nodded. "Yes, Hannah."

Adam and Hannah went to Clare's car, and Kristin smiled up at Crane.

"You're the best, Crane," she said.

Crane winked at her. "See you later," he told her. To Guthrie and I, he said, "See you two at home."

When we were left alone, the three of us, Guthrie sighed.

"When will you be leavin'?" he asked.

"I don't know for sure. Maybe in a week or so. Mom has to give notice at her job."

Guthrie nodded, in silent resignation.

"I better get inside and get to work," Kristin said, then.

"You're ridin' over to our place with your mom tonight?" he asked her.

"Yeah. We'll see you about six."

"Okay," Guthrie said, He leaned down and kissed her cheek, and then went to get into the truck.

Kristin and I said goodbye, and I joined Guthrie.

Our ride home was mostly silent. Guthrie took a different way, one that took a lot longer. I didn't ask why.

I did ask him one thing, though. "Why didn't you say anything? Argue with her?"

"Because it's her decision. If she hadn't wanted to go because of Frank, I would have done almost anything so she

didn't have to. But if she wants to try, well, that's different. I want whatever makes her happy."

"This whole thing sucks," I said.

"Yep," he replied.

And that was all we said.

7

The rest of the day was busy, so busy that I didn't really have time to focus on Kristin, and the fact that she

was moving away. Adam caught Guthrie and I both together at one point in the day, and put one hand on Guthrie's shoulder,

and one on mine.

"Kristin's making the right decision," he said.

Neither one of us said anything, and he went on, "Besides, even if she hadn't wanted to do it this way, her mom was

pretty set on her going. As the parent, she has the final say."

"Maybe she shouldn't," Guthrie said.

"Maybe she shouldn't, what? What do you mean, Guth?" Adam asked.

Guthrie shook his head, looking down.

Knowing Guthrie like I do, I knew exactly what he meant.

"He means maybe Linda shouldn't have the final say," I volunteered. "And I agree."

Adam surveyed us both seriously, frowning. I thought for a moment that he was angry.

He dropped his hands from our shoulders, and stuck his hands in his pockets.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because," I said, faltering.

Adam looked irritated. "That's not a reason. If you're going to have an opinion, then be ready to back it up."

"Alright," I said. "Because, Linda's a flake. She's been letting this go on for a long time, and she's never tried to

fix it before. Everybody at school knew all about Kristin's home life, long before her and I got to be friends. When Seth

was slapping Kristin around, nobody in that house did anything to help! Linda's had her chance to be a good mom! She blew it!"

Adam still looked serious, but I knew he wasn't mad about my outburst, because he lifted his eyebrows and gave me

a half-smile.

"Well, when you get goin', you surely do have an opinion, don't you?"

I subsided, and gave a light shrug. "I'm not trying to be rude about her mom, Adam. It's just how I feel."

"I know." Adam sighed, and looked at Guthrie. "You feel the same, Guth?"

"Yeah. Pretty much so," Guthrie said.

"You kids are in a tough spot," Adam said. "You're both wanting what you think is best for Kristin. You don't want

to see her hurt anymore, and I get that. But, being a parent doesn't automatically make a person perfect. Far from it. You

two should know that. Look at the mistakes we've all made with you two, and Ford."

"That's not the same thing, Adam," Guthrie objected.

"That's right. It's not the same at all," I agreed with Guthrie.

"How so?" Adam asked us.

"Because none of you have ever been like Linda," I pointed out. "You all care about if we're happy, or worried. You

always put us first."

Guthrie nodded, in silent agreement with my statement.

"Well, thanks. I'm glad to know you both feel that way about us." Adam looked pleased by my comments.

"We do," I said.

"What if I really mess up sometime, though? What if I, or Brian, or any of us, really let you down in a big way sometime?" Adam asked.

Guthrie and I looked at each other, and then Guthrie shook his head.

"You won't," he spoke with certainty.

"I hope not. But what if we did? Would you just write us off? Say that you couldn't forgive us?" Adam asked.

"Of course not," I said.

"Well, maybe Kristin feels like she shouldn't write her mom off just yet," Adam offered.

I thought about that, and I guess Guthrie did, too, because we both nodded. I wasn't happy about today's

outcome, but I did understand it a little better than I had earlier.

"But she can come back, right?" I verified. "Her mom agreed to that? If it doesn't work out?"

"That's the plan," Adam said.

Adam reached out and pulled us both close, one of us under each arm.

"You're good kids," he said. "I'm proud of both of you."

He kissed the top of my head, and then did the same to Guthrie. I wondered if Guthrie would complain, but

he didn't.

7

I think both Guthrie and I felt better after our talk with Adam. Guthrie seemed more cheerful, and I felt lighter somehow.

Nancy came early, and by suppertime we were all getting the food ready when Marie arrived, and then Kristin and her

mother. I ran to greet Marie with a hug, and then Kristin, too.

"Come and help finish decorating the cookies," I told Kristin, pulling her along.

By the time we came back out into the living room, carrying a platter of cookies, there were Christmas carols playing

on the stereo.

It was a great evening. For everybody that was there as a guest, they got to open presents from any McFadden.

Hannah and Adam gave Kristin a scrapbook, and Hannah told her that she could take lots of pictures of San Francisco

and then share them with all of us when she visited. They also gave Linda a plant. I'm not very good at names of plants,

but it was a fern, I think.

"For your new home," Hannah told her, and I realized that Hannah must have stopped to buy it today at the greenhouse

before she and Adam and Crane came home.

Linda looked emotional, but she said, "Thank you," with grace.

Kristin gave Hannah one of those footprint kits for babies, and Hannah really liked that. It was something different,

she told Kristin, and she promised to do it as soon as the baby got home from the hospital.

Since my gift to Evan was really a combined one with Nancy, I went ahead and gave it to them instead of

waiting until Christmas morning, since Nancy would be with her own family.

I handed it to Evan and he sat down beside Nancy to open it.

"Wow," Evan said, with a whistle.

They examined the two tickets to the rodeo coming up in a few months, in Bakersfield, California, in excitement.

"This is fantastic, Har," Evan said in enthusiasm.

"It really is, Harlie," Nancy said. "Thank you!" She stood up to give me a hug.

"You're welcome," I told her.

Evan stood up, too, and pulled a small box out of his shirt pocket. "This is from both of us," he told me.

I opened the small wrapped package. Inside there was a necklace, a gold chain with a small glittery, teal blue cowboy boot

hanging from it.

"It's so cute, I love it," I told them. It occurred to me that the boot looked just like a certain pair of real boots.

I raised my eyes up to look at them both. Evan was grinning, and Nancy looked like she was going to start laughing

any minute.

"It looks just like my boots-" I began.

"It's supposed to," Nancy said, and now she was laughing.

"Yeah," Evan said, in a quieter voice, so no one else could overhear. "We saw it, and it just seemed sort of fitting for you, you know? One

lonely blue boot, left all alone somewhere."

He winked at me, and Nancy giggled.

I rolled my eyes, a little embarrassed, but then I smiled, too.

"It does have a sort of familiar ring to it," I said.

I thanked them both and when Nancy went to the kitchen, I looked at Evan.

He smiled at me again, and gave me a hug.

"I really like it," I told him, returning his hug.

"Cool. I'm glad," he said.

"I'm glad we can joke about that night now, Ev," I said, and he nodded, knowing exactly what I was talking about.

"Me, too. Merry Christmas, shortcake."

7


	26. Guthrie, AKA Secret Agent

The next morning, Christmas Day, was a nice day. Kristin had gone home with her mother the

night before, and Marie had decided to keep the café open in case there was anyone who came in,

needing a meal, because they had nowhere else to go.

So, it was strictly McFaddens. But we were a complete unit. It was quiet, or as quiet as a full house

of McFaddens could be, but that was alright, too.

We opened our gifts, and what was cool was that everybody got the baby something. A blanket,

or a toy, or something. The best thing, though, and the one that brought a smile of pure joy to

Adam's face, was a tiny pair of baby cowboy boots, made of soft brown cloth.

He and Hannah unwrapped the package, and as everybody started hooting and admiring them, Adam

grinned a mile wide, and Hannah laughed in delight.

"Ford! Where on earth did you find these?" she asked.

"At a little western store near the college," Ford said, sitting down on the arm of the couch

beside Hannah.

"I love them! Don't you, hon?" she asked Adam.

"Darn right, I do," he agreed enthusiastically. "We'll get the kid started off right."

I tried calling Doc G at his house, to wish him a Merry Christmas, but he didn't answer the phone.

Even though there was a lot of leftovers from the night before, Clare cooked a ham for dinner.

She even put brown sugar on it, and stuck it full with those little clove things. It was really good,

a fact which did not escape the notice of the brothers McFadden, who had despaired of Clare

ever learning how to cook.

Amidst everyone praising her meal, Daniel passed behind her chair, and leaned down to hook

his arm around her neck. "You've come a long way from the days of makin' a meal out of

undercooked chicken and burnt cornbread," he told her.

"Well, thank you, Daniel," she said. "I'm not sure that's a compliment, but I'll take it as one."

Daniel grinned. "Oh, it's a compliment, alright," he assured her.

"Uh huh," Clare said. "Good thing for you that it is."

After our big lunch, Hannah went up to take a nap. Adam stretched out on one of the couches, and

Crane took the other one, and they were both soon asleep.

Daniel and Evan, along with Guthrie and Ford, decided to go riding. They were pulling on

jackets to go, and Daniel turned to me.

"You comin', squirt?" he asked me.

"Yeah, Har, come on," Guthrie prodded.

I wanted to go, I definitely did. As the boys all started to head outside, I turned to Brian, who

was squeezed into the oversized chair beside Clare.

"Can I, Bri?" I asked him. Brian had never told me how long I was grounded from riding after

Kristin and I had gone up to the mine.

"Go on," he said.

I smiled at him. "See you guys later," I told them, and ran to catch up with my brothers.

7

That afternoon was one of those rare times in life, where everything just seemed to flow

along smoothly, and it made a person feel glad inside just to be alive, and outside in the

fresh air. The five of us rode a long way, and we ended up at the lake, inside the game

reserve. We stopped there to take a break, and Ford took out some cookies he'd packed to

share. Evan and Ford got into a rock skipping contest, and Guthrie went off for a walk along

the lake shore.

Daniel and I settled onto a patch of grass, watching Evan and Ford as they argued good-naturedly.

I was sitting cross-legged, while Daniel laid on his side, propped up on one elbow.

"What's your deal with this Reagan Clark?" he asked me.

I told him about Reagan, and how she forced her horse to perform even while he was injured.

"She accused me of being jealous of her," I said.

"You're not, are ya?" he asked.

"No, not jealous. I don't care anything about being on her horse drill team. I've got other plans."

I picked at a tuft of grass, thoughtfully.

"You've got some high goals, alright," Daniel said.

I studied him. "Do you think I can do it? Veterinary school, I mean?"

"There's no doubt in my mind," he said, rolling onto his back, and folding his arms under his head.

"I guess I'll look into some scholarships, maybe," I said.

"Yeah. Crane can help you with that," Daniel agreed.

I changed position, too, flopping down on my stomach.

"I'm going to miss you when you go back," I said, quietly.

"I'll miss you, too."

"I wish you weren't so far away."

"I know."

"Is it what you thought it would be?" I asked him.

"Nashville, you mean?"

"Well, yeah. Nashville, and the music, and being around all those people who love it as much as

you do? Is it as good as your hopes of what it would be?"

Daniel hesitated for a moment, looking thoughtful. "Sometimes. And sometimes not."

I wrinkled my forehead at him. "What's that mean?" I asked him.

"It means that there's days when I can feel the music in everything. Almost like I can touch it.

Like it's in the air. And then there's days when the air's quiet. It might be a day when I'm missin' home, and everybody

here. Those days it's harder to feel the music."

I was quiet, watching his face, and he said, "Guess it doesn't make much sense, does it?"

"It makes perfect sense."

Daniel laughed a little. "I can always count on you bein' in my corner, squirt."

"Maybe because you've always been in mine," I told him.

We got back late that afternoon, and we were all dirty and tired. And hungry. We took turns

at the shower, and then gathered downstairs again, eating ham sandwiches. In an unusual turn,

the older guys told stories of when they were little, and some of the trouble they got into. My parents

figured heavily into those stories and I was glad about that, because it made it seem as if they

were a part of Christmas Day, too.

7

The next morning, I tried calling Doc G, but he didn't answer at either the office or his home. Crane

reminded me that the sign ups for the college level classes were that afternoon at the high school.

"From four to seven," he said, reading the flyer that I'd brought home the week before.

"Okay," I said, absent-mindedly.

"You want to go before supper, or after?" he asked.

I shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Whatever you think." I scratched Warrior behind his ear.

Crane gave me an appraising glance.

"What's up, buttercup?" he asked me. "It's like your mind is a thousand miles away."

"Sorry," I said, with a sigh. "I guess I've just got a lot on my mind."

Crane sat down beside me on the front porch step. "Yeah. I guess you do, with working and

Kristin moving. Is that what it is?"

"That's part of it." I hesitated, and then looked at him. I was fairly certain that if I told Crane

something, he wouldn't dismiss it as nonsense, like Brian might, or make a joke about it, like

Evan might.

"Do you believe in premonitions?" I asked him.

"In what way?"

"Feeling as if something bad is going to happen."

"Why? Do you feel that way?" he asked.

"Kind of."

"Like what?"

I bit at my lip in thought. "I don't know, exactly. It's hard to explain." I shrugged. "Do you believe in them?"

"I think it's possible to feel that something's going to happen. I don't necessarily believe that it's always

definite that it will, though," he told me.

I nodded in acknowledgement, feeling a little better in the presence of Crane's calmness.

"Do you think you have too much going on right now to take this class?" he asked. "It's alright to

change your mind, you know."

"I haven't changed my mind."

"This is the time to do it. Not after you start the class."

"I want to do it, Crane," I assured him.

"Okay. Let's run over after supper then, alright?"

I smiled as a thought occurred to me. "That sounds good. Especially since that will get me out of

dish duty tonight."

I stayed busy the rest of the day, helping clean the house and do laundry. Hannah had a backache

pretty much all day. It seemed like every time I glanced at her, she had a funny look on her face, biting

her lip, and with her forehead kind of scrunched up. Then, if she caught me watching her, she would

smile a little and say, "I'm fine, Harlie."

I felt so strange about it that I whispered to Clare, "Hannah's acting weird."

"Weird, how?"

"She keeps making faces when she thinks nobody's watching. She acts like she's in pain."

"I think she's okay. It's normal at this late stage in pregnancy to have a lot of aches and pulling of

muscles."

I'd read all the pregnancy books several times over. I knew Clare was telling the truth. And besides that,

she had her nursing knowledge to back up her opinion. Still, though...this was Hannah. And I was

worried about her. I couldn't put away my sense of unease.

I didn't want to alarm Adam with my worries. He was, after all, a typically nervous expectant father,

although he pretended to be calm and matter of fact most of the time. So I went to my go-to guy,

my buddy, my fellow worrier, as he came in with all the others to wash up for supper.

"Watch Hannah," I told him, really low. "I think she might be in labor."

Guthrie dried his hands and laid the towel aside. "What's she doin'?" he asked, equally quietly.

"It seems like she's in pain, and she's trying to hide it. Clare said it's fine, that it's just muscle

aches and all of that."

"Hmm," Guthrie said, turning to look at Hannah as she lowered herself into her chair at the

table. "Okay, I'll watch."

So we both watched, trying not to be obvious about it. Hannah didn't eat much. She mostly

pushed her food around on her plate.

"See what I mean?" I hissed, as we cleared the table.

"Yeah. I see," Guthrie said, his forehead wrinkled in concern.

"Ready to go, kiddo?" Crane asked me, going behind us to put plates in the sink.

"Huh?" I asked. And when he gave me a sigh and raised eyebrow look, I said, "Oh, the signup! Yeah,

I'm ready."

"Keep an eye on her until I get back?" I asked Guthrie.

"I will."

With Guthrie on Hannah watch, I actually did relax a little and enjoy my time with Crane. Once we were done

filling out the paperwork for the English class, and Crane had paid for it, we walked outside of school.

There had been a lot of people inside, signing up for different classes. Not just high school kids, but adults, too.

"It's exciting," I said, "but it's kind of scary, too."

"That's the way new things are sometimes," he told me.

As we got into the truck, and Crane started it up, I asked, "When you went to college, were you

scared? Being away from home, and the family?"

"Yeah. I was, a little. I think I was more worried about leaving everybody."

I thought back to those days of long ago.

"I was seven when you went, right?"

"Six or seven."

"Sometimes I get worried about college. Like, what if I flunk out or something?"

"You go. You do your level best. If you run into difficulty, you find a way to fix it."

"Like a tutor?" I asked him, with a teasing grin.

"If necessary."

"Do we have to go right home?" I asked.

"I guess not. Why?"

"Could we stop at Kristin's? Just to see if she's alright?"

Crane hesitated, looking thoughtful. "She's only had one day with her mom, peanut."

"Just for a minute? Please?"

"I don't think we should just barge in on them," Crane said.

I sighed. "So, in other words, 'No', right?"

"Right. Why don't you give her a call when you get home?"

"Okay," I said, giving in.

When we got home, Daniel and Evan were watching a movie together, and Ford was

on the phone. Guthrie was stretched out on the floor, a couch pillow under his head, idly tossing

a tennis ball up in the air and catching it. Adam was sitting next to Hannah on the couch, and they

looked up as Crane and I walked in.

"How was the sign-up?" Hannah asked me.

"Good. There were a lot of people there."

"Really?" She looked down at Guthrie, lying on the floor. "Since your sister's home, you

probably need a break, don't you?"

Guthrie sat up, looking confused. "Huh?"

"Well," Hannah said, "you've been on baby observation guard all evening. Isn't it Harlie's

turn to take over now?"

Guthrie and I exchanged looks as Hannah smiled suddenly, her eyes sparkling.

"I made it that obvious, huh?" Guthrie asked her.

"Wow, Guth," I chided him, sitting down beside Hannah on the couch, "you wouldn't make a

very good secret agent."

"Neither would you, Harliekins," Hannah told me. "You both need some practice before you

sign on to go undercover professionally."

Guthrie shrugged. "Oh, well," he said lightly.

"Yeah. Oh, well," I echoed.

Hannah included both of us in her gaze. "I know you're both worried about me. But everything's

going to be fine. I promise."

I scooted closer to her side. "We can't help worrying."

"I know that." She brushed the hair back from my face, and regarded both of us with a soft look.

"You two should know by now that you can't put anything over on Hannah," Adam told us.

7

I called Kristin after that, and she said things were quiet enough at her house, and that she

and her mom had been talking a lot that day. Frank was, she said, in a silent huff about something,

and had left her and her mother alone.

Next, I tried Doc G's home phone again, but there was still no answer. I sighed, in frustration, and had

a niggling sense of worry. Where on earth WAS that man?

I put the phone receiver down harder than was necessary.

"What's your problem, peach?" Brian asked, passing behind me on his way down the stairs.

"It's Doc G," I said, in frustration, tagging behind Brian back into the living room.

"What's wrong with Doc?" Brian asked, as he and Adam and Hannah all looked at me questioningly.

"He won't answer the phone!" I announced, and they all three stared at me. Listening. Waiting.

When I didn't add anymore to my vehement statement, Brian prompted me, "And?"

"And I've tried to call him for two days now and he doesn't answer," I explained, in what

I thought was an entirely logical way.

Brian raised his eyebrows, and this time he really hammed it up, He held out both hands in

a dramatic gesture and said, "Annnnd?"

"Well, I don't know where he is," I explained, still logically, I felt.

"Since when does Doc have to keep you informed of his comings and goings?" Adam asked.

I was a little embarrassed by his pointed comment. "He doesn't," I said stiffly. "I'm just

worried about him, is all."

"Doc G's been looking after himself for quite some time," Adam said dryly. "I'm sure he's just fine."

Hannah smiled at me, and I knew that she, at least, understood my concerns.

The next morning we were finishing breakfast when I heard the sounds from a familiar truck

pulling up in front of the house.

"Doc G's here!" I exclaimed in gladness, and got up to run thru the living room, throwing open the front door.

"Hullo, Harlie Mac," he greeted me calmly, coming up the front porch steps.

As calmly as if he hadn't fallen off the grid for the last three days!

"Where have you been?" I demanded, and he raised a puzzled eyebrow at me.

"What's this?" he asked.

"I've just been calling you. Yesterday and the day before that. And, well, I was getting real worried,"

I told him.

"Were you?" he asked. "Well, I'm sorry to have caused you worry, lass."

He was so calm, and he was being so kind, and I was so darn glad to see him that I

shrugged. "I guess I overreacted a little. I'm just used to talking to you almost every day, and,

well, I was worried. That's all."

I finished with a sigh, and Doc G surveyed me seriously.

"It's new to me to have somebody worried over me that way," he said quietly, and he reached

out to tug one of my curls. "I'll try to be more considerate of that concern. Alright?"

I nodded. "I just missed you, I guess."

"I find that it's nice, being missed," Doc G said, a smile crinkling the corner of his mouth.

He was asking how my Christmas had been, when Brian came to the open doorway.

"Doc, come on in, and have some coffee," Brian greeted him.

So Doc G came in, and he had a seat at the kitchen table, talking with all my brothers, while Clare and I did the

breakfast dishes.

The conversation was mostly about ranching, and the weather, and how much the cost of hay was rising. Clare and I

were nearly finished drying the dishes when Doc G said, "Any objection to me borrowing your girl for the day?"

Adam said it was fine, and I ran upstairs to get a ball cap, and a jacket.

When I came back down, Doc G was waiting at the door for me, still talking to Adam and Brian. He nodded in approval

at my faded jeans and old boots. "You're likely to get plenty dirty today, lass."

"That's alright. What are we going to do?" I asked.

"We'll talk about that." He looked at me, and then at Adam and Brian. "Would Guthrie be interested in some paid work today? I could

use his help as well."

"More than likely he would," Adam said, and hollered for Guthrie.

When Guthrie came from the kitchen in response to Adam's call, he had a handful of cookies. Doc G asked if he wanted to

work with us all day, and Guthrie nodded in agreement, his mouth full of cookies. "Yes, sir, that'd be great," he said,

when he was done chewing.

Adam shook his head in disbelief, and Doc G chuckled. "Sure you want to take him along, Doc?" Adam asked. "He'll eat

his weight in wages."

"I'll try to feed him up before we come home," Doc G said.

As Guthrie and I were sliding into Doc's truck, and fastening our seat belts, Doc G said, "Well, lass, your investigative

work has had some positive results."

I looked at him questioningly. He nodded at me. "They've shut down the dog farm," he told me.

"They have? Are all of them alive? What will they do to him now? What are they going to do with all of the dogs?" I demanded.

"One question at a time," he said. "The sheriff has a few of his men up there, moving the dogs out. That's going to take

a bit of time. I don't know what they'll do with him. Wilder, I think his name is. Jarod Wilder."

Guthrie, who I'd informed of the situation, leaned forward in the seat to look at Doc G.

"That's a lot of dogs to find homes for," he said.

"It is," Doc G agreed. "Likely it won't be possible."

"What does that mean?" I asked, looking at him worriedly.

"The ones that can't be rehomed will go to animal shelters. Some of the ones that are very ill will likely have to be

put down."

"Oh," I sat back in the seat, thinking that over. It was a discouraging thing to consider.

"Let's size up the situation before we get too worried," Doc G advised.

"I don't even know of any shelters," Guthrie said. "Are there some in Modesto?"

"There is, but I believe they're full up. We may have to go further than that."

As we drove out of town, I realized which direction we were heading.

"Are we going up there right now?" I asked.

"I thought we'd help haul some of the smaller ones in. If Guthrie doesn't mind sitting in the back

of the truck with them, that is."

"I don't mind," Guthrie told him.

"We can put some up front, too," I suggested.

When we got up to the old house, I saw that being closer made things seem different. The pens were

smaller than they'd appeared to be. There were two sheriff deputies there, and another guy in a uniform but

without a badge.

"He's from animal control," Guthrie told me, in a low voice.

There were dogs everywhere, literally everywhere. In pens, in trailers, in the back seat of the deputies

cars. Everywhere.

As we climbed out, Doc G handed us both a pair of leather gloves to put on.

"Alright, both of you listen to me now. Your help is needed here. Desparately. But that doesn't mean

you're to take any unwise chances. A lot of these dogs could be so hungry or frightened that they might

become vicious. I don't want either one of you getting bitten. So do only what I ask you to do, and that's

all. Alright?"

Guthrie nodded. "Yes, sir."

Doc G turned to me, raising a questioning eyebrow. "Harlie Mac? Can you keep that big heart of yours

in check?"

I knew he meant that I needed to listen, and not approach a dog just because it touched my heart with

its need.

"Yes, I promise," I told him.

So Doc G sent Guthrie into the house, to see if there was any dog food or supplies that could be used

for the dogs. Then he asked him to make a soft pallet in the back of the truck with the blankets he'd brought

along.

"There's one particular mama dog that needs some special care," he told Guthrie. "She's about to

burst with pups, so if you could get her in the truck, and settle her, that'd be good. She's the one that looks like a

German shepherd mix. After that, see what the deputies want you to do."

"Alright," Guthrie said, and went off to do as Doc G said.

Doc G lifted several wire cages from the back of the truck. "Harlie Mac, you can collect some of the mid-size

pups, and put a couple of them in each of these cages. They're in the first pen, it looked like to me. I'd rather

you didn't get into the pen. Just reach over and pick 'em up by the scruff of the neck. We'll leave the nursing pups

with their mothers and let animal control handle them."

I said okay, and started off toward the pens.

It took me nearly an hour to do that one job. In just the first pen, I counted thirteen pups. This was in a

pen that I estimated to be only about six foot by eight foot. These pups were those that were in the in-between

stage between cute puppy and full-grown dog. They were all jumping up on the sides of the pen, barking

and trying to get to me.

I had the sudden, and not surprising thought, that I'd like to take them all home with me. Well,

if not all, at least four or five of them.

7


	27. A second chance

I chose four pups, two for each of the cages in Doc G's truck. It wasn't an easy decision to make, to choose which

ones to take first. They all looked so needy to me. They were pathetically eager to reach me, to get some

attention.

All of them were painfully thin, most with their ribs jutting out their sides. I had to harden my heart and

pick the four for the cages we had available. I reached in and pulled them out, one at a time, by the back

of the neck, and carried them to the two cages. I went in search of something to put water in, and found

a couple of old bowls thrown on the back porch. I filled them with water from the hydrant and carried the

bowls to the dogs, where they began to drink thirstily.

Once done with that, I felt drawn to go back to talk to the dogs that were still in the pen.

"You're all going to go, too," I told them, trying to pet as many of the eager heads as I could. "You're getting out of

this hellhole."

I briefly scanned the area, my eyes lighting on another building alot further back on the property.

I couldn't see any dogs in the pens there, but I decided to go check it out, just in case there was.

The weeds were tall here, and my jeans and jacket sleeves were covered with burrs by the time I reached the pen.

I was almost up on it, when I saw them. Two dogs, old by the look of their faces, huddled in the corners of the pen.

Unlike the pups, these two dogs showed no joy in seeing a human. They both just laid there, barely giving

me a glance.

There was something wrong, I saw that immediately. Something extra wrong. The dogs, besides being obviously starved,

had patches where they had no hair left, covered in oozing red sores. I'd never seen anything like it before, and I

went closer so I could see better, I fell my stomach heave in protest. There were even bugs crawling and sticking to the

sore patches. For a moment or so, I thought I was actually going to be sick. I hiked myself up on the fence, and started to swing

one leg over. One of the dogs gave a growl, low in his throat, and sort of waved his head back and

forth. I retreated immediately, remembering what Doc G had said about risks.

I managed to tear a hole in the back of my jeans from the fence, in my hurry. Luckily, it wasn't high enough to be in an embarrassing spot.

I went in search of Doc G, and I was breathless from hurrying by the time I found him, deep in conversation with the

young guy from animal control. They were talking about where some of the dogs could be housed at until permanent homes

could be found. I knew that was an important topic, but I still had a hard time remaining patient until they finished talking.

Doc G gave me a sideways look, and, as I waited beside him, I guess he sensed my agitation, because he reached out to

rub a hand across my back, as he continued talking.

Finally, he turned to me. "What's up, Harlie Mac? You look as if you're about to explode."

"I want you to see something."

"Alright. What is it?"

"Two dogs. They're far back, in a pen. They're in bad shape, I think."

He wrinkled his forehead in thought. "What's going on? Starving?"

"Yes. But something else, too. They act real sick, and their hair is falling off."

Doc G frowned, looking serious. "Alright. How far back are they, did you say?"

"Quite a ways. Maybe a quarter of a mile or so."

"Alright. Let me grab some supplies so I can be prepared."

"Prepared for what?" I asked him, and the youngish guy from animal control gave a obviously disgusted eye roll in my direction, as if

he thought I was the stupidest person alive.

Doc G, however, didn't treat me like I was stupid. He gave me a kindly look.

"Let's just go take a look," he said, gesturing for me to lead the way. After he'd put some supplies in a bag, some vials

of medicine, and syringes, we made our trek thru the tall weeds to the pen, the animal control guy,

who I thought of in my head as Jerko, following along with us.

"One's here," I said, pointing. "And the other one is over there."

Doc G took in the situation with a quick glance.

The closer we got set the dogs to growling again.

"That's what the one was doing before, too," I offered. "Sounding as though he wanted to eat me alive."

Doc G gave me a quelling look, and raised his eyebrow at me. "You didn't get in?" he asked quiet-like.

I've been around him for a long enough time that I wasn't one bit fooled by that quiet tone.

"No, sir," I assured him, not mentioning the fact that I'd started to, but stopped because of the growling.

"But you thought about it, am I right?" he asked then, and I gave him a small smile, and a guilty shrug.

One of the dogs got to his feet, and weaved for a couple of feet like he was drunk, before laying down again, chewing ferociously at

his leg. "Why is he doing that?" I asked, but before Doc G could answer me, Jerko spoke up.

"What do you think?" he asked Doc G. "Looks like it, doesn't it?"

"I'm fairly certain," Doc G answered.

I wondered what they were talking about. I wanted to ask, but I decided to keep quiet.

When Jerko pulled out a small gun, aimed it at the closest dog, I caught my breath. I'd known the dogs were

really sick, but to kill them right away, without seeing if they could be helped? I looked at Doc G in shock.

"Why isn't he letting you look at them first?" I couldn't help asking. "Before he shoots them?"

If looks could kill, the one that Jerko aimed my direction would have had me six feet under.

"He's sedating them. That's a dart gun," Doc G told me, pulling a pair of gloves from his pocket and putting them on.

"Oh," I said, feeling foolish.

The dart went into the first dog's hip. He gave a small noise and by the time the animal control guy had

shot the second dog, the first one was already laid out flat, his eyes closed.

Doc G and Jerko climbed over the pen fence.

"Can I come in, too?" I asked Doc G.

"No," Jerko replied, and I glared at him.

"I wasn't talking to you," I informed him.

"I don't care," he promptly informed me. "I'm giving the orders."

"Not to me," I said, low, but still loud enough to be heard, which earned me another scathing look from Jerko, who I was elevating quickly

from Jerko to Bastardo, which happens to be one of the only Spanish words that I know.

"Stay where you are, lass," Doc G said, going down on one knee, taking a tongue depressor from his front pocket, and lifting the corner of

the first dog's mouth.

After a few minutes, Doc G stood up, and then did a similar examination of the second dog, and then stood again, with a sigh.

He gave a nod at Bastardo, and then said, "Hand me the bag, Harlie Mac."

I picked up the bag he'd set at my feet, and handed it over the fence to him.

"Hold it for me, will you?" he asked me, and I held the bag open while he took out a vial and syringe, and filled it.

"Do you have to euthanize them?" I asked him quietly.

Doc G met my eyes. "Yes. It's rabies, lass."

"Oh," I said, feeling at a loss for words. I'd never known of a domestic animal anywhere in our local area having rabies.

I opened the bag for the second time when he was ready for the dose for the second dog.

Then I hugged Doc G's bag tight to my chest, and waited. Doc G stood beside the dog's prone bodies, and after a few minutes

he nodded at the younger guy.

"They're gone," he said, and then came to the fence, climbing over, and taking the bag from me so he could put the vial of medicine back in.

He took out a plastic bag, and put the syringe in it, and folded the top over, and then laid it in the bottom of the bag. He pulled off

his gloves, too, and stuffed them into the bag.

As we started our hike back towards the house and other pens, Doc G said quietly, "You alright?"

I was glad he was talking so softly, and even more glad that Bastardo was quite a ways in front of us, so that he couldn't hear

our conversation.

I nodded. "I guess so."

"I'm glad that you saw the shed down here. They were suffering."

I blinked up at him, feeling emotional. "Were they?"

"Yes, lass. Rabies is one of the ugliest ways for an animal to die."

I took a deep breath, and then let it out. "I'm glad too, then."

"Do you think he moved them down away from the other dogs because he knew they had rabies?" I asked.

"It's possible that's why they were separated. Hard to say, though."

As we walked beside each other, we were quiet until I said, "I never thought of rabies when I first saw them."

"No reason why you would have. Most dogs around here have the rabies vaccination."

"I was thinking that they might have mange."

"They did," he affirmed.

"Oh," I said, feeling so sad about the dogs that I didn't even have a bit of pride at being correct.

"This is a part of what a veterinarian deals with," Doc G said.

I nodded. "Yes," I said, really quietly, my eyes filling with tears. "I'm glad those two aren't suffering any longer." Then I gestured

up the hill towards all the pens, still filled with dogs. "It's just that there's so many of them...starving and lonely. I don't know

how he could do something like this-"

As my voice trailed off, Doc G stopped walking, reaching for my arm to stop me, too.

He pulled me close so quickly that I didn't see it coming, held me against his chest, patting my back, and then, just

as quickly, released me.

"Such a tender heart you have," he said, looking down at me.

I swiped at my wet face. "Is that a bad thing?" I asked him, a little plaintively.

"No, lass," he answered. "Combine that with common sense, and a lot of patience, and you'll make a fine

veterinarian."

I gave him a smile, which he returned, and just then, a shouting came from up near the pens.

When we both turned to look, there was the animal control guy, motioning for Doc G. I knew he meant it for Doc G, since

he for sure wouldn't be that eager for my company.

"Bastardo wants you," I told Doc G.

Doc G raised his eyebrow at me. "What's this?" he asked.

"It's Spanish," I explained. "It means-"

"I know what it means," Doc G said, looking a bit amused. "I'm inquiring as to why you're calling him that."

"Because he sure seems like one," I said, as we started walking again.

"Oh, I don't think so," Doc G disagreed. "He's a little full of himself, maybe, but young Nathan isn't a bad sort."

"Nathan, huh?" I asked. "I would have thought he'd be named Hector, or Hugo, or something ugly like that."

We'd reached the top of the hill, and as we were approached quickly by Nathan, who looked like he was

on a mission, I muttered, "Or Horace. He looks like a Horace."

"Behave yourself, lass," Doc G warned, in a low tone.

"I will if he will," I returned, and then gave Doc G an impish smile when he looked at me severely.

"Go see if the deputies need any help," Doc G told me.

I passed by Guthrie, who was scavaging thru a small shed, and stopped to talk to him. A tall Collie dog was standing

at his side.

"Hi," I greeted him.

"Hey."

"What're you doing?" I asked.

"Still lookin' around for any supplies that the dogs can use. I found two sacks of dog food in one of the other sheds."

"Oh." I observed the Collie, who was pressed against Guthrie's leg.

"Who's your friend?" I asked Guthrie.

Guthrie rubbed the dog's head. "Isn't he a beauty? He just started followin' me around."

As the dog stared up at Guthrie in obvious adoration, I had to smile. "I think he likes you a little bit."

"I like him, too."

"He looks like he's not in too bad of shape," I said.

"Nah. I think he'd be okay with some good food and some grooming."

I can read Guthrie like a book. I knew where his thoughts were leading, and I grinned at him.

"What?" he demanded, at my smiling face.

"I guess Gus and Warrior could use a new friend," I told him lightly.

"You think everybody will go for it?" he asked me, looking hopeful.

"I'll help you if they need convincing," I promised.

"Thanks."

"Two of the dogs had rabies."

Guthrie looked at me in surprise. "Wow. That's bad."

"The animal control guy is a real ass," I volunteered.

"Yeah?" Guthrie asked.

"Yeah. I'll tell you about it later. Where are the deputies? Doc G told me to ask them what to do."

When Guthrie pointed me in the direction of the officers, I went to find them. They were both sitting on the

tailgate of Doc G's truck, drinking coffee out of a thermos.

They both said hello to me, and the younger one smiled. "You caught us loafing around, young lady. We needed a coffee break."

I smiled back. "Doc G said to ask you what I should do next."

"Well, let's see," the one who, according to his name tag, was Deputy Barnes. "We're getting ready to take some of the

dogs to a lady in Angels Camp who's agreed to foster them for awhile. We need to feed and water the dogs left in the pens.

If you and your brother wanted to go pick up some dog food and bring it back up here to feed them, that would be helpful. I'll

send a note with you, and they'll charge it to the county. Would you be willing to do that?"

"Sure, if Doc G will let us use his truck," I agreed.

"I'm sure he will." They briefly discussed between the two of them how many sacks of dog food we should buy.

"I'd say twenty-five or thirty sacks," the other officer said. Deputy Sylva.

"Do you think you two can manage feeding them tonight, and then maybe for the next couple of days while we take

them out of here a few at a time?" Officer Barnes asked me.

"We can," I said, and turned as Doc G and Nathan walked up.

The deputies told Doc G about sending Guthrie and I for dog food.

"I think I have a full load in my truck," Doc G said. "We'll head on out, and take the pups back to the office. How many did

we end up with, Harlie Mac?"

"Four pups, and then the mama dog," I reminded him.

"I can keep that many in the barn behind the office," Doc G told the deputies. "After we unload them, the kids can

use the truck to bring the dog food back up here."

"The young lady says they'll be willing to feed and water for the next couple days as we start placing the dogs," Deputy Barnes

told Doc G.

Doc G nodded in approval, as Nathan the Jerk said, "That's a lot of responsibility," in a tone that suggested he doubted

we were capable. "They wouldn't be able to miss a day."

"We wouldn't," I said, insulted.

"The kids can handle it," Doc G told him, and though Nathan didn't look happy, he at least was quiet.

Guthrie ambled up, followed by the Collie.

After explaining the plans to Guthrie, we started getting ready to leave.

I held back just a bit. "Deputy Barnes?" I asked.

"Yes, ma'm?" he said, in a jovial tone.

"What will happen to that Jarod guy? Will he go to jail?"

Deputy Barnes looked serious. "I'm fairly certain that he will, yeah. I don't know for how long, though."

"Why was he doing this? Having all these dogs?"

Deputy Barnes looked hesitant, and exchanged a glance with Doc G.

I saw Doc G give a slight nod, and Deputy Barnes turned back to me. "He was selling some of the dogs for animal testing."

"Testing?" I asked. Then it came to me just how that would have to be done.

"Oh," I said, quietly, feeling sick. When I looked Guthrie's direction, he was looking a little shaken and sick, too.

As we walked towards the truck, and sheriff cars, Doc G put a hand on the back of my neck, and pressed gently.

"Steady, Harlie Mac," he said. "Keep your eye on the end result, which is that you helped save a lot of animals, and

give them a chance at a better life."

After a moment, he said, "Do you hear me, lass?" in an attempt to prompt me to answer.

I managed a nod. "Yes, sir," I said.

Deputy Barnes took a small pad and pen out of his front shirt pocket, and wrote on one piece of paper, handing it to

me. "Give that to the fellow at the feed store. It tells him where to send the bill for the dog food."

"Okay."

He wrote on another piece of paper and handed that to me as well. "You two kids keep track of the hours you put

in up here, and have Doc sign off on it for you. Then you send it in to that address, and the county will pay you for your

time."

Guthrie and I both said okay, and I wondered if Guthrie was as impressed by that as I was. Guthrie rode in the back of

the truck to keep the dogs calm, the Collie sitting beside him.

Doc G gave a grin as he looked in the rear view mirror. "Guthrie plan on keeping the Collie?"

"Yeah. He does."

"Okay. I'll check him over before you take him home today."

When the three of us got back to the office, Doc G pulled the truck around thru the alley to the back, and we

unloaded the dogs, getting them settled in the barn with food and water, and making the pregnant one extra comfy

with fresh hay and an old blanket that I hunted up.

Doc G started writing down messages that had come in, and told Guthrie and I to head on to the feed store. He said he

would look over the Collie while we were gone, but the dog seemed reluctant to leave Guthrie at all,

so Doc G just chuckled a little and told us to go on. He called to me as Guthrie and I were walking away,

"There's some crackers and apples in the glove compartment to tide you over until lunch, lass. See that you

eat something."

I told him that I would, and as we drove the short distance to the feed store, Guthrie said,

"That's nice of him. Havin' snacks for you."

"Yeah. It seems like he's always doing something nice for me like that."

We bought the dog food and loaded it, with help from the guys at the feed store, then we drove back up to

the old house, the Collie sitting up tall in the seat between us.

"What are you going to name him?" I asked, rubbing the dog's ear.

"I figure I better make sure I can keep him before I name him."

I waved a hand in dismissal of his concern. "Don't worry about it. Remember how Brian's always wanted a Collie? He'll go

for it."

"Yeah, I forgot about that," Guthrie said, looking hopeful.

We unloaded all the feed, well, actually Guthrie did most of that. We fed all the dogs, not even bothering with bowls, but

just spreading the food on the ground. In the pens with less dogs, Guthrie spread the dog food out, just walking around the outside

of the pen, and dumping it all along the edges as he walked. We used three sacks just on that one pen. As we moved to the more

crowded pens, Guthrie did the same thing, but there were still dogs in the middle, and not enough room for them to squeeze to the edges

to eat. Fights began to break out, with weaker dogs getting pushed aside, and attacked by stronger ones. One smaller one, in particular,

was getting the worst of things.

"Hey!" I hollered, waving my arms, and trying to get the attention of the fighting dogs. I climbed into the pen

and pushed my way thru the wall of dogs. I hollered again, and Guthrie turned from dumping dog food to see what I was

doing.

"Get out of there, you idiot!" he yelled at me.

"They're hurting the little one!" I yelled back, over the noises of barking and growling.

"Get out!" he yelled again. "Go turn the water on and drag the hose over here!"

I scrambled back over the fence and ran to get the hose. Guthrie grabbed it, and held his

finger over the end, making it spray over the fighting dogs.

The water separated the dogs, and Guthrie leaned over the fence with his long arms and

picked the small dog up by the scruff of the neck.

"Is he okay?" I asked anxiously, reaching for the dog.

"I think he is," Guthrie said, letting out a deep sign.

"Oh. She," I said, with a smile. "I think we should take this one back to the office."

Guthrie shrugged. "Okay by me. Let's get goin'. I'm ready for some lunch at Marie's."

When we got back to the office, Doc G checked the small dog over, gave it a couple of

shots, and then did the same with the Collie.

"He seems fairly healthy," Doc G said. "Plan on keeping him, Guthrie?"

"I sure hope so," Guthrie said.

We went to lunch at Marie's, and I surprised myself by how much I ate. The rest of the

afternoon was filled with regular chores around the office and barn, and tending to the dogs

we'd brought back.

It was late afternoon when Doc G drove Guthrie and I back home. I was tired, and dirty, but

I felt good inside. Like I'd been a part of something important.

Adam came over to greet us when we drove in. His eyebrows rose a little at the sight of the

Collie, and he of course, assumed that it had been me who toted him home.

"I'm not guilty this time," I said. "That's Guthrie's baby."

Brian came out of the barn, and immediately took up with the Collie.

"He's a good lookin' dog," Brian said in approval, rubbing the dog's head with both hands.

"Come in for some cake and coffee," Adam urged Doc G.

I was mostly quiet while everybody talked, and so was Guthrie. I guess we were both

tired. Everybody was interested in what we'd done that day, and Doc G praised both Guthrie

and I, giving us lots of credit for our help, but leaving out the part about how it had all come

about. I was grateful that he was still willing to keep the secret about Kristin and I going up

there in the first place.

"Let me sign off on that paper you have," Doc G told us.

When I handed it to him, he scribbled down some writing about how many hours that Guthrie and I

had worked that day, helping with the dogs. He added about eight more hours onto that, and when

I asked him why, he said he had to go out of town for a couple of days, and the extra hours would be

to compensate us for driving up to feed the rest of the week.

"Send it in at the end of the week," Doc G said, handing it back to me. "You should both get a check a few

days after that."

"Okay," I said, and went to lay the paper on Crane's desk for safekeeping.

"Where do you have to go?" I asked him, before I thought about being nosy.

"I have to help out a friend," Doc G said. "You think you can tend to the dogs at the shop, and keep

up with my messages?"

"Sure," I said. "I can."

Doc G handed Guthrie and I each thirty dollars in cash.

"You don't have to pay me," Guthrie objected. "The county's goin' to pay us, right?"

"Right. But you both worked hard today."

"You don't have to do that, Doc," Adam said.

"I know I don't," Doc G said, in his usual brusque way. "I'm doing it because I want to."

Guthrie and I both said thank you, and Doc G said his goodbyes, heading out to his truck. I stood with Guthrie

and Adam and Brian on the front porch as we all saw him off.

"Come talk with me a minute, lass," Doc G told me, and I followed him to the truck, as the rest of the family

headed back inside.

Doc G climbed into the driver's seat of his truck, and left the door open, and I stood there beside him.

"You already know this," he told me, "but I just want to say it one more time."

"What?"

"Your end results in getting all those dogs help, and a second chance at a better life, that's good. The way you

went about it, though, that was wrong."

"I know. And thank you for not telling Adam or Brian."

"It's okay. I just want you to remember to do things the right way, the safe way. It takes more patience, but

it's better."

"I'll remember," I told him.

"It's a promise, then?"

"Yes. A promise."

"You did a good thing, lass. You should be proud."

"I want you to be proud of me," I told him.

"I am, darlin'."

I smiled at him, and he smiled back.

"That does remind me of something, however," he said. "You said you thought about getting into the pen, with the sick dogs, before you came

to get me today. Is that right?"

"I thought about it," I admitted.

"Hmm," he said. "Well, I need to be going now, but you remind me to get onto you good and proper for that when I get back, alright?" His blue

eyes were twinkling at me.

I smiled again, and stepped back to shut his truck door.

"Oh, for sure, I will," I said lightly, knowing he was teasing.

"Alright. I'll be seeing you, Harlie Mac."

I told him goodbye, and watched as he drove down the long driveway, and as he turned to go onto the road,

I saw him lift his hand in a wave.

7


	28. The McFaddens grow by one

There was never really a discussion about keeping Guthrie's Collie dog. He just sort of spent the first couple of days with

everybody loving on him, and nobody, as far as I know, ever said anything about him not staying. Guthrie started calling

him Jethro Bodine after one of his favorite characters on an old television show.

Guthrie and I continued to go up to the old house where the dogs were, feeding and watering them. We recruited

Evan and Ford to come help us out a couple of times, too. I was wondering how much the county would pay us per hour,

and when I asked Ford, he said he figured it would be minimum wage. I was busy planning on uses for the money.

On the afternoon of the second day, when we came back home, we found Hannah, wrapped in a blanket, sitting

and rocking on the front porch.

She said hello to all of us, and tried to smile, but she looked funny, and we all exchanged glances. Adam

came out the front door, a cup of something steaming hot in his hand.

"Here's your tea, hon," he told her. "Hi, kids," he said to the four of us.

He was talking calmly, but upon a closer look, I could tell he was nervous.

"Everything okay?" Guthrie asked, looking worried.

"Everything's fine," Hannah said.

Clare came out the door then, too. "I called the doctor," she said, sounding efficient. "He'll meet us at the hospital."

I felt my stomach lurch a little, and Guthrie looked even more worried.

"You need to go to the hospital?" he asked.

"Women usually go to the hospital when they have a baby, cowboy," Hannah told him.

"It's time, then?" Guthrie asked.

"You're in labor?" I echoed.

"I'd make a bet on it," Hannah said, and I thought she looked really pale.

"What can we do?" Ford asked.

"What car are you going in?" Evan asked. "I'll go bring it up to the door."

"We're not going to rush. I'm just going to sit here for awhile," Hannah said, before she squeezed her eyes shut,

and let out a really deep breath.

"We're goin'," Adam contradicted her, his voice strong with authority. "As soon as you finish your tea."

"First babies take forever," Hannah told him. "I might as well sit here as at the hospital. Tell him, Clare."

"First babies can take forever," Clare said obediently. Then she added, "But I'm with Adam on this one. I think we

should head on over there."

Hannah sighed again, but she didn't really seem to take much convincing.

The door opened again, and Crane came out, carrying Hannah's packed bag, and her coat.

Even though Hannah protested that she didn't need her coat, that she wasn't cold, between Crane and

Adam they hustled her into it.

Hannah drank some of her tea, standing up, and then we all followed along behind as

Adam propelled her gently towards Clare's car, his arm around her waist. Ford went around

and opened the passenger side door.

Before she sat down, Hannah turned to face all of us. She smiled at Evan, and patted

Ford's cheek with her hand.

"Come here, you two," she told Guthrie and I, and when we both came up close, she

wrapped an arm around each of our shoulders, pulling us close.

I pressed my face against her neck, inhaling the smell of vanilla and coconut from

her shampoo. I tightened my hold on her.

"I love you both, so so much," Hannah whispered in our ears.

"We love you, too," Guthrie said, his voice husky with emotion.

Hannah pulled back a little, brushing back my hair, and trying to muster up a smile.

"I'll see you all at the hospital, " she said.

"I want to come now," I said.

"I do, too," Guthrie agreed.

"Let us get Hannah checked in and settled a little, and then you can come," Adam

said.

He helped ease Hannah down into the car seat, and Clare climbed into the back seat.

Adam shut the car door, and turned to face us.

"I guess we're goin' to go have a baby," he said, looking nervous but his voice full of

joy.

"It looks like it," Crane said, with a grin, and slapped Adam on the shoulder. "Go on,

get going. We'll be there after awhile."

Adam got in, and they drove away, and we all just stood there for a couple of minutes,

in a stunned way. After all these months, Hannah was finally on the way to have the

baby! I crossed my arms, suddenly feeling a chill in the air, and a fear inside of me.

Crane, intuitive as always, sensed it, and rubbed his hand down my back in a

comforting gesture.

"Hannah's going to be fine," he said, looking not just at me, but at Guthrie, Evan and

Ford.

"Are you sure?" I asked, knowing it was a really dumb thing to say. There was,

after all, no way that Crane could guarantee that.

"I'm sure," Crane answered with such certainty that it made me feel a little better.

"I want to head over there fairly soon," Ford spoke up, and I was glad to hear him

say it.

"Yeah," I added.

"We will," Crane said, but we've got chores to do, and we ought to eat supper before

we go. It may be a long night."

"I don't think I can eat," I volunteered. "I'm too nervous and excited."

"You'll eat," Crane insisted, sounding firm. "We don't need any blood sugar

crashes tonight."

"Okay," I mumbled.

Evan and Ford headed off to start chores, and Guthrie went to try to find Brian, who was

out riding fence somewhere, and let him know what was going on.

"You can help me throw together a meal," Crane told me, and I followed after

him into the house.

"Where's Daniel?" I asked.

"He went after some groceries," Crane said. "It's been crazy around here all afternoon, and

we're almost out of milk and bread."

Crane started frying up some hamburger to make tacos, while I chopped up tomatoes and

lettuce.

"Can you go downstairs and see if there's any more taco sauce?" Crane asked me.

So I went to the basement, searching the pantry shelves for taco sauce. I found only one

jar. I set it down long enough to start a load of laundry, from what seemed to be a mountain-sized

pile of dirty clothes in front of the washing machines.

When I went back upstairs, I set the taco sauce down on the table.

"There was only one jar," I told Crane.

"Okay. We'll make do."

"I started a load of laundry while I was down there, too," I said.

"That's good. Thanks, peanut."

"There's an awful lot of it to do."

"I'll try to get to some of it later tonight or tomorrow."

"I'll help you with it," I told him, and went back to my vegetable chopping.

Crane finished frying up the meat, and started grating cheese.

"How are the dogs?" he asked me. "Are there very many left up there?"

"About fifteen are left. They've been really working to get all of them out."

"Where are they moving them to?"

"Some foster homes, and then shelters. Some of them are staying at the pound in Angels

Camp right now until they get homes."

Crane nodded as there was the sound of a boot knocking against the back door.

"Hey! How about some help here!"

I put down my knife and went to swing the door open for Daniel, his arms wrapped

around three sacks of groceries.

"Daniel, Hannah left for the hospital!" I said in excitement.

"Yeah?" Daniel's eyes lit up. "I wondered if today was the day, with the way she

was feelin' earlier."

"We're going to the hospital as soon as we eat!" I added.

Daniel set the bags on the kitchen table. "I need to change my shirt before we

go," he said.

"Put that stuff away, and get the table set," Crane said, and Daniel gave him a

mock salute.

"Yes, sir, boss man," he said, and I giggled.

Evan and Ford came in and washed up, and we started eating, looking up when

Brian and Guthrie came in the back door.

"Nice of you all to wait for Guthrie and me," Brian said, sarcastically.

"Like one hog waits for another," Evan quipped, reaching for another taco.

"We couldn't wait," I added. "We have to get going soon." I stood up and took my plate

to the sink. "Were you going to change your shirt?" I asked Daniel, reaching around him

to take his plate.

"I guess I'm done," Daniel said succinctly, and got to his feet, heading up the stairs the back way.

I reached around Crane for Evan's plate, and Evan gave my hand a smack.

"I'm not done!" he said.

"Well, hurry up," I told him. "I'm going to go up and change, too. I don't want to smell like dog when I'm holding

the baby."

"You shouldn't get your hopes up," Crane cautioned. "The baby might not be born until tomorrow."

I stopped, feeling bad suddenly. The thought of Hannah being in extreme pain for that long of a period of time

dampened my happy spirits.

Crane took a look at my face, and added, "I could be wrong, though. Maybe the labor won't last that long."

We didn't take time to wash the dishes, but just stacked them in the sink, and grabbed jackets to head out.

"We can squeeze into two vehicles," Crane said, organizing everybody. "If Harlie agrees to sit on somebody's lap, that

is."

"I suppose so," I said. I would have agreed to just about anything at that point, just to get them all moving.

I ended up in Evan's truck, with Ford in the middle, and Crane by the passenger door, and me perched on his

knees. It seemed like it took forever to drive to the hospital. I was so anxious and excited that I kept twisting and

moving around, until Crane got almost grouchy, and told me I had bony elbows, and to sit still.

"You can ride home with the others, and jab Brian with your sharp elbows," he said.

"Sorrreee," I said.

We made quite a group, going into the hospital. I've never liked hospitals, but then who does, really? Besides nurses

and doctors, I guess.

Ford went to the nurse's station, and told them we were there for Hannah McFadden. The nurse nodded, and said,

"Mrs. McFadden is in the labor room. I'll let her know you're here. Only two people at a time are going to be

allowed back there."

We all found places to sit in the waiting room. None of us even made the pretense of reading a magazine. We

all just sat there, looking around mostly, to the sound of Guthrie popping his knuckles nervously.

I looked at the big clock on the wall. 7:20 p.m.

"Hannah's been here over three hours," I volunteered.

Nobody bothered to answer me.

We waited for what seemed like a long time. "Did that nurse go back and tell Adam we're here?" Guthrie

asked, to nobody in particular.

"I'm sure she did," Crane said.

We waited some more, until finally some double doors opened and Adam came out. He had taken

off his long-sleeved shirt, leaving his t-shirt. For lack of a better word, I thought he looked a little

shell-shocked.

Guthrie and Ford and I all immediately swamped him with questions.

"How is she?" Guthrie asked.

"Is she doing alight?" This from Ford.

"Did her water break?" I asked.

Adam held up a hand to forestall the questions, giving Guthrie a pat on the shoulder.

"She's doin' alright. She's bein' a real trooper. Yeah, her water broke shortly after we got here."

"Can we see her?" I asked.

"Yeah. I'll take you back. Who goes first?"

I looked at Guthrie's face, and made what I thought to be a super mature decision.

"Guth, you go first," I said.

"You sure?" Guthrie asked, looking at me hopefully.

"I'm sure. Go on."

"Okay," Guthrie said, and followed Adam down the hall and thru the double doors.

Daniel tugged my braid as we sat back down in the chairs. "That was nice of you," he

said quietly. "Lettin' Guthrie go first like that."

I shrugged. "Guthrie's been real worried about her."

"So have you," Daniel pointed out.

"Yeah. But it's different for Guthrie."

"How so?" he asked.

"I've read all the books and stuff. I understand more about labor and delivery. I just think

Guthrie will feel better when he sees that Hannah's using her breathing and stuff to get thru

the contractions."

Daniel was looking at me, the expression on his face bemused.

"What?" I asked him questioningly.

"Listen to you, talkin' all grown up and medical like."

I smiled at him a little, pleased by his praise.

"I'm gonna get some coffee from the cafeteria," Brian said, standing up. "Anybody want

anything?"

"Is there a vending machine?" Evan asked, standing up, too. "I could use a Coke."

"Ask one of the nurses," Brian told him, and Evan wandered over to the nurse's station.

"Dan'l, you want somethin'?" Brian asked.

"Naw, not right now," Daniel said.

"Crane?"

"I'll take a cup of coffee," Crane said.

"How about you, peach?" he asked me.

"Hot chocolate sounds good," I told him.

"I'll see if they have any," Brian said, as Ford got to his feet.

"I'll walk down with you," Ford told Brian.

We sat. And we waited. It was around twenty minutes later when Guthrie came out, followed by Clare, just as Brian and Ford

came back from the cafeteria, carrying the coffee and cocoa.

I was instantly on my feet, my eyes searching Guthrie's face. I didn't even say anything, I just looked at him,

all my questions in my eyes.

"She's doin' okay," Guthrie said, his eyes meeting mine. "Those contract things seem pretty rough, but she's handling

it."

"They're contractions," I told him. "Not contract things."

"Come on, Harlie, I'll take you back," Clare said, and then leaned into Brian. "Then I'll come back, and sit out here for

awhile."

Brian nodded, rubbing his hand across her back.

After we stepped thru the double doors, Clare took my hand and squeezed it.

"Is she really doing alright?" I asked her.

"She's doing great. I don't think there's anything to worry about."

"Okay," I said, and when Clare pushed open the door to Hannah's room, she said, "I'll be out in the waiting room."

I nodded, but my eyes couldn't seem to take in anything at all except for Hannah, sitting in the hospital bed, with

tubes sticking out of her arm. She looked pale and sweaty, and, though she didn't smile, she was glad to see me, I could

tell.

"Harliekins," she greeted me. "Come here," she said, holding out a hand to me.

I went and took her hand. "Are you alright?" I asked, and then thought what a dumb question to ask someone

in labor.

"I think I'm doing alright," Hannah told me, but it didn't sound to me as if she was very sure at all.

"Here, hon," Adam said, and spooned an ice chip into her mouth.

"Why do they have an I.V. in your arm?"" I asked her.

Just then, Hannah had a contraction. Her hold on my hand tightened. A lot. A whole lot. She made a grimace of pain,

and then started blowing in and out, softly.

"Look at me," Adam told her, and Hannah focused her gaze on his face.

I knew when the contraction was over, too, because her grip on my hand loosened.

"Did I hurt you?" she asked me.

"No," I shook my head.

"They're giving her a little pain medication thru the I.V.," Adam told me, returning to my previous question.

I nodded.

Hannah had two more contractions while I was sitting there with her. In between, she asked questions about

all the dogs that had been rescued. I think it was to take her mind off of the labor, so I launched into conversation,

trying to be entertaining.

Eventually, she said, "I'm going to rest for a few minutes until the next one," and closed her eyes.

I looked across the bed at Adam. "Ford probably wants to come back," I told him.

Adam nodded, and stood up. "I'll be right back," he said quietly, and Hannah nodded, without opening her eyes.

"Love you, sweetie," she said to me.

"Love you, too," I said, and followed Adam out of the room.

"How's she doin'?" Brian asked Adam, as we came back into the waiting room.

"She's gettin' tired, I think," Adam said, and for the first time I noticed how strained he looked.

"Go get some coffee, Adam," Clare told him. "I'll go back in."

"Maybe later," Adam said. "I don't want to leave her right now." He turned to Ford. "You're up, buddy. Ready to head

back?"

"Yeah," Ford said, standing up, and setting his Coke can on the table next to his chair.

When they'd gone, Brian reached over and picked up a cup from the table, covered with a plastic lid.

"Here's your hot chocolate, kiddo," he told me. "It might be gettin' cold by now."

I took a sip of it. "It's still a little warm," I said. I wrinkled my nose a little. "It's really sweet. Too sweet, almost."

"Just throw it away," Brian told me.

"Okay," I said, and got up to toss the cup into a nearby trash can. "It's not good like yours," I told him.

"I'll make you some when we get home," Brian promised. "If it's not real late."

"Okay," I said, and, since Daniel was busy scribbling something, probably song lyrics, on a piece of notebook paper, I went

to sit beside Crane on another couch.

"You alright?" he asked me.

"Yeah. Can I lean against you for a little while?"

In response, Crane raised an arm to rest it on the back of the couch, so I could lean against his side.

I closed my eyes, hearing them all talk, their voices drifting in and out. I fell asleep, and when I opened my eyes again,

Adam was sitting beside Brian, talking, a cup of coffee in his hand. Looking around, I saw that Guthrie, Evan and Clare were

all missing. When I checked the big clock above the nurse's station, it read 9:40.

Without being observed watching him, I checked Adam over. He was looking weary, and I could tell he'd been running his

fingers thru his hair.

"Where's Guthrie?" I asked Crane quietly.

"I think he went for a walk."

Evan came thru the double doors, and rejoined us. Any other time, I would have found the stunned expression on his

face comical.

"Wow," he said, sitting down and sinking against the back of the couch. He looked at Adam. "She's askin' for you."

Instantly, Adam was on his feet, and gone like a shot.

"Eye-opening, isn't it?" Crane asked Evan.

"Boy, is it ever," Evan said, with feeling.

I stood up, stretching a little. I felt like I had my second wind.

"I'm going down to the cafeteria to get some coffee," I announced. "Anybody else want some?"

Brian and Evan shook their head, and Daniel, immersed in his writing, didn't even look up. Crane stood up, stretching, too.

"You better get a snack, too," he said. "It's been a long while since you ate anything."

"Okay. I'll find something."

"I'll go with you," Ford said.

Ford and I took the long way to the cafeteria, going by the nursery window to see how many babies were there.

"There's only three," I said, disappointed.

We stood there, looking at the babies, and laughing at the expression on one of their faces as he wrinkled his face to scream.

We found Guthrie, wandering aimlessly down the hallways, and he tagged along with us to the cafeteria.

The boys both got a bottle of chocolate milk, and some cookies, and I fortified myself with a cup of coffee and some

peanut butter crackers. I opened the package and munched on them as we headed back to the waiting room.

Crane and Brian and Daniel and Evan were all standing together in a circle as we walked up.

They turned to look at us, as Guthrie asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Crane told him. "We're just discussing who's going to go home."

"Why does anybody have to go home?" I demanded.

"Adam came out and said that they think it's going to be quite awhile yet," Crane said.

"There's things at home that are gonna need tending to," Brian added.

"Oh." I sat down on the couch, finishing my crackers. They all kept talking about the chores, and I didn't pay much attention

until the subject of the dogs came up.

"You two have that to do tomorrow morning," Brian reminded, looking at Guthrie and I.

I exchanged a look with Guthrie. I was starting to get a bad feeling that they were going to tell us we had to go home.

To circumvent that, I spoke up quickly, "We gave them plenty of dog food, didn't we, Guthrie? They'll be okay until later tomorrow."

Guthrie nodded in agreement. "They should be."

"I'll go with Brian," Evan volunteered.

Brian turned to me. "Why don't you come, too, peach? You need to get your shot done."

I stared at Brian in disbelief. Surely he wasn't seriously thinking that I could miss being here for the actual birth!

"I can't leave!" I said, a little louder than I probably should have.

Brian raised an eyebrow at me, and I stood up quickly, going to stand at his side.

"I can't miss being here when the baby's born," I said. "I just can't!"

"Crane just told you that it's gonna be awhile yet-" Brian began.

Right about now I was inwardly cursing the fact that I had diabetes.

"Please let me stay, Brian," I begged, dangerously close to tears. "Please."

"What about your shot? You can't just blow that off, and you know it."

I did know that. I wished mightily that I would have thought to bring my supplies in one of our small coolers.

I made the mistake of looking at Ford, and Daniel, and then Guthrie. The sympathetic looks on their faces was

my undoing. I grabbed my jacket off a chair, and said, "Let's just go then!" and stomped off

toward the elevator. I was leaning against the wall, waiting for them, when

I heard Brian's boot steps. I knew it was him, because they were steady, not loud, but decisive. It's hard to explain,

but I'm pretty sure I could identify every one of my brother's footsteps, if I needed to.

"I had an idea," Brian said, as we waited for the elevator doors to open. "I'll tell you, if you're not so pissed off

you don't want to listen."

"I'm not pissed off," I said, still looking at the elevator, and not him. "I just hate having diabetes. It's ruined my whole life."

"Now you're just talkin' foolish," he said, sounding irritable.

The doors opened, and we stepped inside. There was another man already in the elevator, so we neither one said anything, until it

stopped at the fourth floor, where the man got off.

As the doors closed again, I took a look at Brian's profile. He looked mad. I sighed. It wasn't Brian's fault that I

needed to do my shot.

"I thought Evan was coming, too," I said quietly, trying for conversation.

"He is. He'll be down in a few minutes," Brian said tersely.

After a couple more moments of silence, I said, "Sorry for being a drama queen."

"Okay."

I waited. He said nothing.

"Can I hear your idea?" I asked.

"I thought you could come back after you do your shot, since it's so important to you to be here. Evan said he'd run you

back."

"Oh, that would be fantastic!" I said. "Thanks, Bri," I said gratefully.

"Uh huh," he said, but I could tell he was still irritated at me.

"Don't be mad," I said humbly, looking up at him.

"I'm not mad," he said, and even though I wasn't sure that was true, I still felt relieved.

My sense of relief, however, was short-lived.

"I do think, though, that we'll have a talk on the way home," Brian said.

7


	29. Dawn of a new life

I followed Brian out, as the elevator doors opened, and we walked outside to the parking lot. There were

a lot of stars lighting up the sky tonight, and a decided nip in the California air. I pulled my jacket tighter around me, and

looked backwards to see Evan coming out of the hospital doors.

Brian went to the passenger side of Evan's truck, and opened it, ushering me in.

"Here comes Evan," I said.

"Yep," Brian said, barely looking towards where I was pointing.

As I settled into the middle of the seat, and Brian got in beside me, slamming the door,

I spoke up quietly. "Can we talk later? Do we have to do it in front of Evan?"

Brian leaned forward and untucked his shirt. "Since when is it a big secret that we have

a talk?"

"It's just-embarrassing," I told him. "I don't want Evan to hear you yell at me."

"I wasn't plannin' on yelling at you," he said. "But I guess I can."

"You know what I mean," I said.

When Brian didn't say anything, and I could see that Evan was almost to the truck,

I said, quickly, "I said I was sorry for being so dramatic about having to go home to

do the shot."

"I know you did. That's not what I want to talk to you about."

"Well, what then?" I asked him.

Brian gestured towards Evan, opening his door, and said, "We'll wait."

Well, then, feeling cantankerous, I changed my mind, and didn't want to wait. Let him get onto me in front of Evan.

It wouldn't be the first time. Or probably the last one, either.

"It's okay," I told Brian, in an effort to get him to say whatever it was.

Evan slid into the driver's seat and started the truck. And even though I kept looking at Brian, hoping he

would get the message without me saying anything, he just started talking to Evan about ranch stuff. I wanted to

jump into the conversation, and interrupt, and tell him to just get his lecture over with.

But I didn't want to irritate him any more than he was already. So I kept my mouth shut.

When we got home, Brian told us to wait while he went inside to switch on the porch light.

"We don't need anybody breaking their necks tonight," he said.

As soon as the porch light came on, I ran up the porch stairs, and went to the kitchen, turning on the lights. I got out

my shot supplies, and did it quickly. So quickly, in fact, that it hurt.

"Owww," I said, and couldn't help a little yelp of pain. "Bat shit!"

I hadn't known Brian was behind me in the kitchen, until I heard him running water at the sink, and I turned quickly.

"Nice language," he said mildly, filling the coffee pot with water.

"It hasn't hurt like that in awhile," I said, starting to pick things up. "It just slipped out."

"You do it too fast?" he asked, guessing correctly.

"Yeah," I admitted, wishing I could rub my arm, where I'd given the shot. Clare says I'm not supposed to do that, though, because it

can cause problems.

"I thought you'd come to terms with havin' diabetes," Brian said, and I looked at him in surprise, watching

as he spooned coffee into the top of the coffee pot.

"What?" I asked, confused.

Brian switched on the coffee pot, and turned to lean against the counter, crossing his arms.

"Your comment earlier, about it ruining your whole life?" he prompted me.

"Oh." I hesitated a moment. That must be what he'd meant, about us needing to talk about something.

"I know it was a dumb thing to say," I said. I wrinkled my forehead in thought, trying to figure out why Brian

thought it was a big enough deal to lecture me about it.

"I don't like to hear you say things like that," Brian said, with a frown.

"I'm sorry," I began, but Brian interrupted me, sounding impatient,

"I don't want an apology. I want to know why you feel that way."

"Well," I hesitated again. "I don't mean that it's ruined my life, exactly. It's just a big pain, and sometimes it's

overwhelming."

"I understand that," Brian said.

"Yeah?" I asked, looking at him hopefully.

"Yeah. And I know it's tough to deal with. But I don't see that it's ruined your life. You're takin' classes, and

working for Doc, and doing all the things you've always done."

"I guess I was just exaggerating,," I admitted. "Being dramatic. You know." I shrugged, and gave him a

concilatary look.

"I don't like to think you're going to be one of those females."

"What kind of female?" I asked him, confused.

"Always sayin' something to get attention, making things into somethin' that they're not."

"I don't do that," I protested. Then, "Do I?"

"No, not usually."

Brian's facial expression softened a little. "You've always been a straight shooter, Harlie. People can understand

that, respect it. If you start saying things like you did tonight, it can become a habit. After that, it's easier and easier

to be less honest and straightforward."

I felt a little subdued. "Okay," I said. "I'll try not to do it anymore."

Brian surveyed me seriously for a moment. "Comere," he said, motioning to me.

I walked over to him. He lifted the end of my braid in his fingers, swinging it back and forth a little.

"That's it," he said. "End of lecture."

"Okay," I said again, and wrapped my arms around his waist. He hugged me back.

"Better get some snacks to take with you," he told me, and I nodded, grabbing several apples and a box of

Ritz crackers from the cabinet, and stuffing them into a backpack hanging on a hook by the back door.

I went in search of Evan, and found him sitting on the couch, his feet propped up, and his eyes closed.

I gave him a light poke on the arm. "Ev, will you take me back now?"

Evan groaned, not opening his eyes.

"Ev, please."

Evan sighed, and opened his eyes. "You're brutal," he accused. "I've been up since five this morning."

"I'm sorry. I know you're tired. But if you take me now, then you can come right home and go to sleep."

"Here," Brian said, coming up behind me and handing Evan a cup of steaming coffee. "Drink that. I don't want

you falling asleep on the drive home. Turn up the radio, too."

Evan nodded, and took the cup, drinking it in a couple of gulps.

"Let's go, shortcake," he told me, and we left, with me promising Brian that I, or Crane, or somebody, would call

him and Evan with updates about the baby.

"Just call when Scooter's here, with his fingers and toes all counted," Brian said. "I'll sleep down here on the couch so I can hear the phone."

"Okay. You're still sure the baby's a boy, huh?"

"Not a doubt in my mind," Brian said, and told Evan to drive safely as we went outside in the cool night air.

"What time is it?" I asked, realizing that I had no idea.

"It was almost 11:30 when we were comin' out," Evan told me, as we pulled out onto the road.

"Thirty more minutes, and then the baby's birthday will be tomorrow," I said thoughtfully.

"Yep."

When we got back to the hospital, I got out and came around to Evan's side.

"I can go up by myself," I told him. "You can head home to bed."

"I will, after I walk you up."

"You're tired, though."

"Yeah. But I'm not gonna let you walk across the parking lot in the dark."

I didn't argue anymore, because I knew there was no use to it. Besides, it was a little creepy walking across that

dark parking lot. There was only a couple of lights, and they weren't very bright.

It seemed like it took forever for the elevator to get to the fifth floor.

The McFaddens were a tired looking group, spread out in the waiting room. Crane was reading a newspaper, and Ford and

Guthrie were watching the overhead television. Daniel was stretched out on a couch, actually looking like he was asleep.

"Any news?" I asked Crane anxiously.

"Progress. Steady, but slow."

"Is she getting close to delivery, though?" I asked.

"I don't know. It's been an hour since Adam came out with an update."

"Okay." I sat down next to him. "At least I made it back in time."

"I'm gonna head on," Evan said.

"Okay." Crane put the newspaper down, and stood up, stretching. "Get a cup of coffee," he told Evan.

"Brian gave me some. I'm alright to drive," Evan told him.

Daniel stirred on the couch, sitting up. "I think I'll head home with Evan," he said. "Hannah will be too tired

for all of us tonight. I'll come back in the mornin' after chores to see the baby."

"Okay," Crane said, with a nod.

"You stayin', Ford?" Evan asked.

"Yeah. I'd like to stay."

"Okay. We'll see you all in the mornin'," Daniel said, and he and Evan ambled off towards the elevators.

"Want an apple?" I asked Crane, shrugging off my backpack. "I brought several."

"No thanks, peanut. I think I'm going to walk around for a bit."

I lugged my backpack over to where Ford and Guthrie were sitting, immersed in an old rerun of The Munsters.

I settled in between them on the couch, and started watching with them, wordlessly offering them each an apple.

So we munched our apples, and watched that episode, and then another one that followed. Crane came back, carrying

a cup of coffee.

"I wish Adam or Clare would come out and tell us what's going on," I sighed.

"Adam's concerned with Hannah," Ford said. "That's more important."

"I know," I said, giving him an eyeroll.

When an episode of 21 Jump Street came on, I got up to go throw my apple core away. I went to the double doors,

and stood on my tiptoes, peering thru the window at the top. I was wishing mightily that I could make Adam or Clare

appear, when Crane came up behind me, tossing his cup into the trash can.

"Come and sit down," he told me.

"I'm tired of sitting."

"Well, then, come away from the doors. If somebody needs to come in or out in a hurry, you'll be in the way."

I sighed, and went to look out the windows at all the lights of the city.

After a few minutes, I heard Crane call me, and I went back to see Clare coming out of the doors, and Guthrie and

Ford getting to their feet to greet her.

"They're taking her to delivery," she said, and I felt my heart pounding in excitement.

"How is she?" Crane asked.

"She's tired, but she's holding up alright."

"You look like you're about to fall over in exhaustion," Crane told her.

"I'm alright," Clare assured him, but Crane took charge, sending Guthrie down to the cafeteria for some food for Clare,

and telling her to sit down.

"Want some water?" I asked her. "Or a Coke or something?"

"A Coke sounds like heaven right now," she said, and I went to the vending machine, pulling change out of the pocket

of my jeans.

Clare drank the Coke, and ate the hamburger and fries that Guthrie brought back.

"I'll bet Adam's starved," Guthrie commented.

"No doubt he is," Clare agreed.

When she was done eating, she looked at her watch. "I guess it's too late to call Brian and tell him goodnight," she

said, and Guthrie and I exchanged grins. Six months married, and they still acted like newlyweds.

"He said he was going to sleep on the couch so he could hear the phone," I told her.

So we sat. And we waited. And waited some more. I was sitting next to Clare, and we all jumped up when Adam finally

came through the double doors, still wearing a white hospital gown over his jeans and t-shirt.

He looked tired. Beyond tired. He looked exhausted. But his eyes were lit up like the Fourth of July.

"Eight pounds, two ounces," he said, his voice full of pride. "It's a boy."

7777777

I started squealing, and jumping up and down. Adam was swamped with back slapping, and hugs.

"Congratulations, brother," Crane said, and hugged Adam.

"Thanks," Adam said, and I launched myself into his arms.

Guthrie and Ford both took their turn giving hugs of congratulations, and then we all stood there, in a tight

circle, grinning like fools.

Adam reached out to squeeze Clare's hand. "Thanks for everything you did back there."

Clare gave him a side hug. "You're welcome. I was just glad to be a part of everything. How is she?"

"She's good. Real tired, but good," Adam said.

"And the baby?" Ford asked. "He's alright? He's healthy?"

"He's perfect," Adam said, his voice cracking in emotion.

Crane wrapped an arm around Adam's neck, in support.

"Can we see the baby?" I asked the question that we all wanted to know.

"They're goin' to be bringing him to the room once they get Hannah settled in. The nurse said she'd tell you when

you could come."

"I'll go call Brian," Clare said, and went down the hall towards the pay phone.

Adam disappeared again, heading to the room, and we waited some more, until finally a no nonsense nurse

came out to get us.

"Only a few minutes," she warned. "Mrs. McFadden needs to rest."

When we were allowed into Hannah's room, Hannah was sitting up in the bed, propped up by pillows. Her face

was lit up with her smile, and she held the baby in her arms.

"Come here, you three," she said to Guthrie, Ford and I.

We came closer and Hannah lifted the blue blanket to reveal the baby, wide-eyed, and with a full head of

dark hair. He was, without question, the most beautiful baby I've ever seen in my life.

"Wow," Guthrie said, low, in awe.

"His hair is incredible," I said.

"You can touch him," Hannah told us, and Ford touched one tiny finger, grinning as it latched around his own

finger.

Crane crowded closer to take his own look. "That's a fine looking baby," he said.

Adam and Hannah have been reticent about the baby's name the whole time, discussing names but never really

deciding on one. The baby had been Ivan Iggy for so long, as a family joke.

"What are you going to name him?" I asked.

Hannah and Adam exchanged a look.

"We're going to name him Isaac Joseph," Hannah said.

"I like it," Ford said, still letting the baby hang onto his finger.

"Here, Ford," Hannah said, lifting the baby a little. "You can hold him."

Ford took the baby gingerly, gently, and held him. "I feel like I'm gonna break him," he said, nervously.

Hannah laughed a little. "You're doing fine," she said.

"Let me and Har have a turn," Guthrie said, impatiently.

"Keep your shirt on," Ford told him, and passed the baby to Guthrie. "Hold his head," Ford added.

"I know how to do it," Guthrie said, and as he held the baby, swaying back and forth slowly, I crowded as

close as I could to his side, holding the baby's hand.

"My turn," I said, when I couldn't stand waiting a minute longer.

When I finally had him in my arms, I watched his little face, and he looked right at me. His eyes were a little

unfocused, maybe, but they were still looking at me. I leaned down and kissed his forehead.

"Hello, Isaac Joseph McFadden," I whispered. "Welcome to the world."

7


	30. Captain Jack and Clarence

The next morning, Guthrie and I headed up to feed the dogs that were left, and were surprised to find Deputy Barnes there, getting ready to load the remaining

five dogs into kennels in the back of his patrol truck

"Hello there, kids," he greeted us. "I was going to give you a call when I got back to the office, and let you know all the dogs were picked up. Sorry

you had to drive up here."

"That's alright," Guthrie told him.

We helped get the dogs ready to go, and helped load them.

"What do you want us to do with the dog food that's left?" Guthrie asked.

"How much is left?"

"Quite a few bags," Guthrie told him. "It's down there in the shed."

I stayed at the truck, talking to the dogs, while the two of them went to check on the dog food.

When they came walking back, the deputy backed the truck down to the shed, and he and Guthrie loaded

the majority of the dog food sacks. "I'll take these to the animal shelter," he told us.

When there was seven or eight sacks left, he said, "You kids take the rest to feed the dogs that Doc G took. Take a sack or two

home to your own dogs, too."

In a change of subject, he asked Guthrie, "How's that Collie doing?"

Guthrie responded in enthusiasm, talking up Jethro and how smart of a dog that he is.

"Have you had any success in placements for the dogs at Doc's?" Deputy Barnes asked.

"Not yet," I said, and admitted, "I haven't really had the time yet." I smiled at him, and

said, "We have a new baby in our family!"

"Is that right? Well, that's a good reason to be short of time. Boy or girl?"

"A boy," I shared.

"Are you two kids the oldest in your family?" he asked then.

Guthrie and I exchanged a humorous look. "Nah. The youngest," Guthrie told him.

"Hmmm," he said, and I could almost see his thoughts putting together the observation that between Guthrie and I's ages,

and a newborn baby, was a considerable age gap. Which it would definitely be, if it were our parents having the baby.

"It's our brother Adam's new baby," I explained.

"I see. You have a large family?"

"Yeah. You could say that," Guthrie said, with a laugh.

"We have six older brothers," I said.

"And two sister-in-laws," Guthrie added.

"My gosh," Deputy Barnes said. "Your parents must enjoy the holidays with that many kids."

Guthrie and I exchanged another look, this one pensive, and smile-free.

"Our parents died a long time ago," I said.

"I'm sorry," he said, and I could tell that he meant it.

I would have told him it wasn't new, that Guthrie and I were used to not having parents, but I didn't want to sound callous

or hateful.

Guthrie spoke for both of us when he said, "It was a long time ago. Our brothers raised us younger kids."

"They must be good men," the deputy observed.

"They are," Guthrie said.

"The best," I added.

"They did a fine job with you two, I'll say that for them," Deputy Barnes said. I smiled at him, and he gave me a smile

in return.

We said our goodbyes to Deputy Barnes, with his reminder for us to send in our pay vouchers to the county.

"Doc G sighed it already, before he went out of town," I told him. "We'll send it in."

"Well, our office sure appreciates your help up here. At least this guy won't be profiting off innocent

dogs any longer." He shook both Guthrie and I's hands, and we followed his patrol truck down

the hill, with Guthrie tapping the brakes, easing off, and then tapping them again.

"He's a nice man," I said.

Guthrie nodded in agreement, unwrapping a piece of gum and popping it in his mouth.

He held out the pack to me, and I took a piece and then handed it back.

"So we headin' on in to take care of the dogs at Doc's office?" he asked me.

"Yeah. We'd better get it done. I want to go see the baby."

"When's Doc G gettin' back in town?" Guthrie asked.

I wrinkled my forehead in thought. "I think he said he'd be back in a couple of days. So he might even be at the office

already."

But when we got to the veterinary office, there was no sign of Doc G's black truck out front,

"Maybe he's parked around back," I said hopefully.

But when I'd retrieved the key from it's customary hiding place underneath the ceramic basset hound statue, and we went inside,

it was obvious Doc G was nowhere around. I saw the blinking light on the answering machine and sighed.

"I'll bet there's a million messages," I told Guthrie.

"I'll go get started on feedin' the dogs," he said, and disappeared thru the swinging doors leading to the back.

I listened to the messages, writing down names and numbers. None of them seemed to sound really urgent, and I knew Doc G's greeting had

alerted callers that he was out of town, and, in case of an emergency, to call Dr. Thomas, the vet in Angels Camp.

I headed out to help Guthrie, and we finished up in record time.

"I guess I'd better start looking for homes for all these guys," I said.

"That's goin' to take some doing," Guthrie said. "You know how hard it was to find homes for Warrior's brothers. Everybody around

here has enough dogs already."

"Think positive," I told him.

"I am thinkin' positive," Guthrie said. "I'm positive that it's going to be tough to find them homes."

"Funny guy," I said, giving him an eye roll.

"You know what will happen, don't you?" Guthrie asked, giving me a grin. "Doc G will end up with whatever ones that are left."

"Probably so," I said, thinking of how Doc G had taken Brutus because he was chasing our cattle, and Pearl, when Guthrie and Evan

and I had rescued her, the two of them joining his ancient and obese basset hound, Clarence.

When we got home, we both went to the kitchen, washing up and making ourselves sandwiches. The breakfast, and now the lunch

dishes, were still piled in the sink and on the counters, unwashed. While we were eating, Clare came up the back stairs from the basement,

carrying a full basket of towels.

"Hullo, you two," she said, and set the basket on the kitchen table.

"Any news about Hannah and the baby?" I asked her.

"Well, Adam came home to change clothes earlier, and he said everything's fine."

"When will they let them come home?"

"What's today?" Clare asked, in thought. "If everything continues going alright, maybe tomorrow."

Guthrie and I looked at each other grinning.

"Where's Brian, do you know?" Clare asked us. "Or Daniel?"

"We didn't see anybody when we got here. Why?" Guthrie asked.

"One of the washing machines is acting up. Making funny noises. I decided I'd better not use it. I want one of the guys

to look at it."

"Is it the bigger one?" I asked her.

"Yes. The one near the wall."

I waved a hand. "It does that every now and then. Just ignore it."

Clare looked skeptical. "You mean go ahead and use it?"

"Sure," I told her, biting into my tomato like it was an apple.

"I don't know, It's pretty loud. Don't you think they should look at it? And see if we need to call a repairman?"

When Guthrie hooted in laughter, Clare looked at him in confusion.

"What's so funny?" she demanded.

"The McFaddens don't call repairmen," Guthrie informed her. "At least, they don't except in extreme, extreme emergencies."

"Well," Clare said, "with the mountains of laundry that are piling up down there, I'd say all you boys having to run around without

any jeans on, might be considered an extreme, extreme emergency."

I laughed so much that I choked on my swallow of milk, and Guthrie turned red.

However, he conceded with grace, getting to his feet, his sandwich still in his hand. "I'll go find Daniel or somebody and tell 'em," he said,

and disappeared out the back door, joined by Jethro, who had been patiently waiting for him to appear.

I was still giggling as I got up from the table.

"Oh, before I forget," Clare said, "I heard the answering machine pick up earlier this morning. I think Doc G left you a message."

"Oh. Okay," I said, and went off to the living room, going to push the blinking light on the machine.

"Hullo, Harlie Mac," Doc G's voice said, sounding as if he were right in the room with me. "I've been held up a bit. I wonder if you

would go over to my place and check on the menagerie. I'd appreciate it. Hope everything's going alright, and I'll take you to lunch

when I get back. There's something I want to talk to you about. Take care, lass, and I'll see you soon."

I smiled to myself. Doc G expressed himself the same whether he was talking directly to you, or on the telephone. As I headed back

to the kitchen to help Clare with all those dishes, I wondered curiously what it was that Doc G wanted to talk to me about.

7

Crane took his camera when we headed back to the hospital that afternoon, so we could take pictures of the baby with

everybody. When we all walked in as a group, Daniel, Brian and Evan went back first, and then Adam came out to say hello

to the rest of us.

"Hey, kids," he greeted us, pulling Guthrie and I, and Ford too, to his chest for a hug.

"How's Hannah?" I asked.

"She's fine."

"You're sure?" I persisted, looking up into his face.

"I'm sure," he told me, tapping the end of my nose with his finger. "She says for you all to come back to the room."

"I thought we couldn't all be back there at the same time," I said. "Nurse's orders."

"Well, that's what Hannah wants. The other lady in the room got discharged today, so we won't be botherin' anybody. Come

on."

So, with every single McFadden present and accounted for, we filled up the room. Hannah was sitting up in the hospital bed,

her dark hair brushed and held back from her face with a wide pink headband. Her eyes were shining as if she were all lit

up inside. Brian was holding the baby in the crook of his arm, looking as confident and comfortable as if he was used to holding

a baby every minute of every day.

Guthrie and I both went to give Hannah a hug, and Ford leaned down to kiss her cheek.

I went to stand beside Brian, letting the baby's fingers curl around my own.

"You look right at home holding him," Guthrie piped up, coming up on the other side of Brian.

"I don't know what's so surprising about that," Brian told him. "I do happen to have a little experience holdin' babies, you know."

"That's been a long time ago, though," Guthrie pointed out.

"Not so long ago that I can't remember what a squall baby you were," Brian said. "We had to hold you constantly to keep you quiet."

"Yeah, yeah," Guthrie said. "Sure, Brian."

"Let me hold him now," Ford said, coming up, and trying to scoop the baby from Brian's arms.

I went to sit down beside Hannah on the bed, and she reached over to squeeze my hand.

"Are you feeling alright?" I asked her, looking her over intently.

"I feel pretty good," she assured me. "How are things at home?"

"The dishes were stacking up, but Clare and I got them done. When will you get to come home?"

"I think tomorrow, possibly," Hannah said, and I nodded, my mind already filling with an idea.

After our visit, we all got ready to leave for home. I was reluctant to pass Isaac back over to Adam.

"Everything okay with you, sugar?" he asked me. "Dogs all doin' alright?"

"The deputy picked up the last of them today."

"That's good." He smiled at me, looking tired. "Hopefully we'll be home by tomorrow."

"I hope so."

"Me, too," he agreed. "I'm ready to sleep in my own bed. That little pull-out sofa isn't made for sleep."

I looked at the couch he was pointing to. It was more of a love seat, actually. I figured if Adam tried to stretch

out on it, there would be a large portion of his legs left hanging off.

"I see that," I said, smiling at him. "All the fathers that stay here must be dwarfs or something."

Adam nodded. "Or something."

7

On the way home, perched once again on somebody's knees, (this time it was Ford), I chattered to him and Daniel

and Evan about how we should decorate the house with banners and balloons to welcome Hannah and the baby home.

Being typical males, they said it sounded like a great idea, but offered no ideas or even any help.

I would, I thought to myself, herd them up, and make them help tomorrow morning.

We were pulling into our driveway at home when I remembered that I needed to go over to Doc G's to feed his dogs

and horses.

Yet again, here was a time when I needed my own vehicle. I knew Guthrie was the only one that would let me drive

his truck. "Can I borrow your truck?" I asked him as we went up the front steps. My voice was low, but apparently

not low enough to not be overheard.

"Where do you need to go?" Brian asked.

"I have to go over to Doc G's. He called and asked me to feed over there because he's still out of town."

"I was gonna pick Kristin up," Guthrie said. "I guess I can call and tell her I'll be late."

"No," Brian said, before I could speak up. "Go on, Guth. We'll figure somethin' out."

Guthrie looked at me. "Okay, Har?" he asked, and I nodded, as Guthrie went on into the house, followed by Clare.

My next best bet was Ford. "Will you let me borrow your truck?" I asked him.

Ford hesitated, and I huffed in frustration. "Let me guess. You don't trust me to drive it, right?" I gave Evan a look out

of the corner of my eye. "And I know better than to ask Evan!"

"Hey," Ford protested. "I didn't say I didn't trust you. Don't be puttin' words in my mouth."

I rolled my eyes and Ford said, "I'll go along and help you. How about that?"

"That sounds like a good idea," Crane added, as Brian said,

"Yeah. Good idea."

I leveled my eyes at the five of them, Brian, Crane, Evan, Ford and Daniel.

"I'm perfectly capable of driving over there and doing Doc G's chores," I said, with dignity. "I'm not an infant."

"Nobody said you were," Crane said, in a tone that I knew was meant to be soothing.

"That's right," Brian said. "Ford's makin' a nice offer to you. Why don't you accept it and go do what needs

doin' over at Doc's?"

"I thought you said you wanted to call Valerie," I reminded Ford, with a raised eyebrow.

Before Ford could answer, I said, feeling petulant, "Why can't I drive the Jeep?"

Brian shook his head, and Crane said, "You know why you can't. Those tires-"

"Oh, for Pete's sake," I complained. "It's not that far-"

"And besides the tires, it's gonna be getting dark soon," Brian said. "I don't want you out drivin' alone after dark."

I could feel my petulance rising, and I knew I was about to say something I shouldn't. Something sassy. Something

certain to cause Crane's eyebrows to raise, and Brian to explode in anger. I was still debating in my mind whether

to risk it or not. Then I looked at Daniel.

His eyes were solemn, and he shook his head, very slightly. The expression on his face spoke volumes, even without

a real word. It plainly said, 'knock it off'.

So I sighed, and said, in resignation, "Okay. Are you ready to go now, Ford?"

"Yeah. Let me get a drink first," Ford said, and went inside.

Evan gave me a look, one that sent a clear message that he wasn't impressed by me at that moment. He even had the

audacity to roll his eyes at me. Something which I thought was rather unfair, since he always hollars at me if I do it to him.

Then he turned and followed Ford inside.

"I'll see what we can rustle up for supper," Crane said, and he gave me a look, too. "Calm down, alright?" he told me.

"I'm calm," I said. When Crane had gone, I was left with Brian and Daniel. And they were both frowning.

"What?" I asked, holding my hands up in question.

The only answer Brian gave was a hard, warning glare. Well, I'm not stupid. And I'm not immune to that glare of

Brian's.

"I'm sorry for being so pushy," I said.

"And stubborn," Daniel prompted.

"And stubborn," I echoed.

"And pig-headed," Daniel pressed on.

"Thanks a lot, Daniel," I said, with a sigh, a little insulted.

Daniel gave me a half-smile, and I saw the twinkle in his eye. He reached out and caught me around my neck, circling me with his

arms from behind, and facing me towards Brian.

"She is pig-headed, though, isn't she, Brian?" Daniel said. "I guess that's why she reminds me so much of you."

For a long moment, Brian didn't say anything. Then he shook his head a little, and said, not sounding so mad, "It can't be me you're thinkin' of, Dan'l. It

must be yourself."

"Not me," Daniel said, and he gave me a gentle push toward the door. "Maybe Adam, then?"

"Sounds about right," Brian said.

7


	31. Welcome home, Isaac

When Ford and I got over to Doc G's house, Ford said he'd go start feeding the horses. I took the key from the hiding spot above

the front door. I went inside, and opened a couple of windows, since it smelled kind of musty, like a house does when it's been closed

up for a few days.

The three dogs can go in and out thru the doggie door in the back, and both Pearl and Brutus ran to greet me. They followed me

inside, while I refilled their food and water bowls. Clarence, moving a lot slower due to his age and weight, came ambling thru the

doggie door in his own sweet time.

"Hi, Clarence," I greeted him, leaning down to rub his ears.

After that I looked around. Doc G, while notoriously messy at the veterinary office, keeps his house pretty tidy. Mostly, I supposed,

because he's not home all that much. I refilled the water and bird seed in Captain Jack's cage. The parrot, having been here

for almost ten years, tends to be suspicious of anyone that isn't his beloved Doc G.

He squawked at me, and started to whistle.

"Hello, Doc!" he shrieked.

I swept the living room and kitchen quickly, and by then Ford had come inside.

"Want a soda?" I asked him. "Doc G always has Dr. Pepper."

"Sure," Ford said. "If he won't mind."

"He won't care," I said, with certainty, and went to get a can of pop from the refrigerator.

After I handed it to him, I closed the windows. Ford had walked over to stand beside Captain Jack's cage.

"Pay attention!" Captain Jack told Ford. I had to laugh when it startled Ford so much that he kind of jumped back a little.

"He's loud," Ford said. "Is it okay to pet him?"

"Not the best idea. He only likes Doc G."

"Gotcha," Ford said, removing his fingers from harm's way.

"Maybe we should sit a few minutes," I suggested. "I know the dogs are lonely without Doc G here. Do you mind?"

"No. It's okay," Ford said, and found a spot on the couch to sink into. Brutus promptly jumped up into his lap, giving

Ford sloppy kisses.

Pearl, ladylike, jumped up beside me on the other end of the couch, and laid her head on my leg.

Clarence took a tattered blue blanket from a corner of the room, and, dragging it with his teeth, he settled himself on

the area rug in the center of the room, the blanket clutched between his front paws.

"What's the deal with the blanket?" Ford asked, with a grin.

"That's his blankie," I said. "He has to have that to feel secure."

Ford laughed, and I shushed him jokingly. "Don't laugh at Clarence," I said. "He has anxiety issues."

"Are the horses alright?" I asked him.

"Yeah. They're good. Is Doc planning to keep them?"

"I don't know. He took them for his friend. Remember? The one who was a famous barrel racer? She couldn't keep them

any more. I don't know why. Anyway, he said he was going to rehome them, but here they still are."

After a few more minutes passed, Ford said, "It's been a long day. You about ready to head for home?"

"I guess so," I said, but I felt reluctant to leave the dogs. I hugged all three of them, planting a kiss on the top of

Clarence's graying head. "Doc G will be home soon, Clarence," I told him.

Clarence seemed to understand, settling back onto his blue blanket again.

The sun was beginning to set when we went out, locking the door behind us.

"Here," Ford said, fishing in the front pocket of his jeans, and holding something out in his hand.

When I looked, and saw, I tilted my head at him, puzzled. "Huh?"

"Drive."

I stopped walking to look at him. "How come?" I asked.

"Because I said so."

I knew he was only doing it because of what I'd said to him earlier, about not trusting me to drive his truck.

"You don't have to, Ford," I told him.

"I know I don't have to. Now take 'em."

I still stood there, looking at him, not sure whether to be amused, or honored, or just what, exactly.

"I'm tired. I wanna go to bed. So take the keys and drive us home, or I'm gonna have to get

real tough with you," Ford said, in mock severity.

Ford, trying to sound all fierce, was so funny that I grinned at him.

"Oh, yeah?" I asked.

"Yeah. If you cross me, it's likely to get real ugly."

"Well, I sure don't want that to happen," I said, giving a pretended shudder of fear. I reached out and took the keys from his hand.

"Thanks, Ford," I said, as he started around to the passenger side of the truck to get in.

"Just try to keep it between the buoys, and yell for the Coast Guard if we hit the rapids," Ford said, in a teasing reminder

of me driving Evan's truck into Sugar Creek.

"Oh, I will," I returned in good humor. After I'd driven a few feet, I stopped the truck, and when Ford looked at me

questioningly, I added, with a smirk, "I think Doc G has some life jackets in the barn, if you want to grab one."

"So funny I forgot to laugh," Ford said.

7

I remembered the giant rolls of paper that Brian had used when he'd helped me draw a solar system a few months ago. He'd said

that Clare had brought it home from her nursing classes. So I asked Clare if she had any more of it, and she said she thought she did, in a container

that she stored some of her class papers in.

"Why?" she asked me, as we dried the dishes together, while Crane washed them, and Brian sat at the kitchen table, his

legs stretched out in front of him. "Do you need some of it?"

"I was thinking we could make a welcome home banner for Hannah and the baby. Make it really long, and stretch it out across the fireplace," I told

her.

"That's a cool idea," Clare said, approvingly. "I think I have some in a light blue."

"That would be good for a baby boy," I said.

"Yeah. Let's go upstairs and check to see what I have," Clare said, and we both laid our dishtowels down to head up to her and Brian's

attic apartment.

"Hey," Crane protested. "Where are you two going? Who's going to dry all these dishes?"

"Oh, of course," Clare said, coming back to pick up her towel again. "What were we thinking, Harlie? Leaving Crane with

all these dishes?"

I know Clare well enough to be able to feel when she's getting ready to deliver a zinger, so I shrugged my shoulders in answer,

and waited, trying to look serious.

As she picked up the dishtowel again, she moved as if to dry another plate, and then, quick as a flash, she tossed the towel at

Brian, and it landed on his head. "Brian will help, won't you, babycakes?"

Brian took the towel from his head, and gave Clare a mock menacing look.

I was nearly doubled over, laughing, at hearing Brian being called 'babycakes'. Even Crane was chuckling.

I got serious real quick, though, when Brian stood up and stepped my way.

"Think that's pretty funny, don't you?" he accused me.

"No, Brian," I said, trying to contain my amusement. "Not at all."

"Uh huh. Well, I guess I could be persuaded to help out. If I was to be given the correct persuasion, that is." He looked at Clare with

his eyebrows raised.

Clare giggled, sounding like a teenager, and went to stand in front of Brian, and gave him a kiss, which turned into another kiss, and

then a third, which lasted so long that I looked at Crane and shook my head.

Evan chose that minute to walk into the kitchen, and upon observing the marital affection taking place, Evan snorted

in disgust, and walked around Brian and Clare to get to the refrigerator.

"Good grief, you two," he said. "Get a room, why don't ya?"

7

We made some popcorn, and Brian made some of his hot chocolate, and Clare and I spread the banner paper out on the living

room floor, writing on it.

"I think we should all sign it," Ford volunteered, as he buttoned up his jacket, preparing to leave to go on a date with

Valerie.

"That's a good idea," Clare agreed. "Everybody could write a message on it to Hannah and Adam, something encouraging about

being new parents, or giving some funny advice."

There was a knock on the door, and we all looked up, a little startled.

"I didn't hear anybody drive in," Brian said.

Since Ford was closest to the door, he went to open it. I heard him say, "Hey, Kenny. How are ya?"

"Hey, Ford. I'm doing alright. How about you?"

Clare looked at me questioningly. "Who's Kenny?" she whispered.

"Kenny Harris. A boy from school. In Guthrie's class," I whispered back.

"Guthrie's not here," I heard Ford say. "But come on in."

"I actually wanted to talk to Harlie," Kenny said, stepping inside the front doorway.

"Oh, yeah?" Ford asked, and turned with a grin towards where I sat.

Well, there was nothing to do, but act nonchalant at that point.

"Hi, Kenny," I said, from my spot on the floor.

"Hey, Harlie. How are you?"

"I'm alright," I said. "How are you?"

"Good."

Brian stood up, and Kenny shook hands with him, and then with Evan.

When he looked across the room, he nodded at Crane and Daniel, sitting on the other couch.

"Hi, Crane. Hi, Daniel."

Crane and Daniel both said hello, and I could see the corners of Daniel's mouth crinkling up in amusement.

I scrambled to my feet, probably not very gracefully.

"We can talk on the porch," I said, and then felt my face turn hot as Evan hustled to open the front door as if he

were a butler, and Ford gave a flamboyant gesture towards the front porch.

"I'll turn the porch light on," Evan said. "It's pretty dark out there. You two might bump into each other."

I felt even more embarrassed at that, and after Kenny had gone out in front of me, I doubled up my fist

and gave Evan a punch in his stomach as I passed by.

Evan uttered an "Ow," and I pulled the door shut behind me.

I drew in a deep breath of clean, crisp night air.

"Sorry about Evan and Ford," I said.

"It's okay," Kenny said, sounding unconcerned. "They're just joking around."

"Sometimes they're too much, though."

"They're good guys," Kenny said, and so, since he didn't seem bothered by Evan and Ford's comedy routine, I dropped

the subject.

Kenny half-sat on the porch railing. "You been having a good vacation from school?" he asked.

"Yeah. We have a new baby now. He was born a couple of days ago."

"I heard about that. That's great. What'd they name him?"

"Isaac."

"That's a solid sounding name," Kenny said.

We stood in silence for a couple of moments, and then I said, "How about you? Have you been having fun?"

"Yeah. We just got back in town from going to see my grandma for Christmas."

I nodded, and Kenny grinned at me from across the porch.

"You looked pretty cute sittin' on the floor like you were."

I didn't know what to say to that. How could a person look cute while they were sprawled on a floor? And I was in tattered jeans

and an old t-shirt, too.

Since I was at a loss as to how to answer, I just didn't.

"We're decorating to surprise Hannah and Adam when they get home tomorrow," I said.

"Yeah? That's cool."

After a couple more minutes of us just standing there, looking at each other, I thought how silly it was. I mean, I've known

Kenny for about a hundred years. What was there to feel so awkward about?

"What did you want to talk to me about?" I asked him.

"I asked you for a movie date, remember? The day before school vacation started?"

I'd actually forgotten, in the excitement of the baby being born, and helping with the dog rescue.

But I didn't say that. "Oh, yeah," I said.

"You still willing to go out with me sometime?"

"Yeah. I'm willing," I said, and when Kenny smiled at me, I smiled back.

"I guess you're kind of busy right now, with the baby comin' home and all. You want to wait a week or so?"

"That would probably be good," I said, impressed at his thoughtfulness.

"Okay. I figured so. I wanted to come by and say hello, anyway. I'll talk to you at school next week. Alright?"

"Alright."

Someone inside the house, clowning around, flicked the porch lights off and then back on again.

"Comedians," I said.

Kenny laughed. "Yeah. I'll be seeing you, Harlie."

"See you," I said, and waited until he'd driven away before I went inside.

The duo of mischief makers were still right beside the front door. Lying in wait for me. Like a couple of weasels.

"So how is Kenny?" Ford asked, not bothering to disguise his grin.

"He's fine," I said shortly.

"It seems like he's gotten taller since I saw him last. Doesn't he look taller to you, Ford?" Evan asked.

"Yeah. Definitely taller," Ford said.

"He wouldn't have to go far to be taller than either one of you," I said, and Daniel burst into laughter.

"She got you both with that one," Brian said, from his chair, with a grin.

"Hey!" Ford protested. "That's a low blow, Har."

"You both deserved it," Clare spoke up from where she still sat on the floor, a marker in her hand.

Both Evan and Ford grumbled good-naturedly. Evan went back to the western he'd been watching on television, and Ford

left for his date.

I sat down, cross-legged, on the floor beside Clare again.

"Kenny's pretty cute," Clare said, really low, nudging me with her elbow.

I nudged her back, and we started working on the banner again.

7

The house was clean and decorated by mid-morning the next day, with the banner hung up. Ford and Guthrie, Kristin and I

had been busy blowing up balloons, and taping them all over.

"Come on, Ford," Guthrie said. "You're slackin' here. I've blown up like forty to your five."

"Hot air, Guthrie," Ford said, and Guthrie released the balloon he'd been blowing up, and it sailed across the room. He

head butted Ford in the stomach and they started wrestling.

"Quit goofing off," I ordered them. "We've still got a lot to do."

Despite the goofing/slacking off of aforementioned brothers, the house still looked pretty amazing when we were

finished. Nancy and Marie had both come over to join in the welcoming home celebration.

Adam had called earlier and given us an approximate time of their arrival home. I don't think I've felt quite so excited and

anxious for a long time, or maybe never. It seemed like it took forever, and then finally Hannah's little Gremlin turned into the long driveway, and

they were home.

Isaac was home.

7

I've heard people say that having a baby in the house changes everything, and I found no reason to dispute that.

Everything that first evening was sure all about the baby. Hannah was installed on the living couch, and Isaac was passed

from person to person. Adam went upstairs to take a shower, and when he was a long time coming back, Guthrie went upstairs,

and returned with a grin, announcing that Adam was sprawled on the bed, asleep.

"Let him rest," Hannah said. "He hasn't gotten much sleep in the last couple of days."

Hannah took a sip of lemonade, watching as Daniel held and made faces at the baby.

"I love the decorations," Hannah said. "Thank you all for making it so nice for us."

After an hour or so, Adam reappeared, wearing a clean shirt, and looking a little embarrassed.

"Sorry," he apologized. "Didn't intend to run out on the party."

"No need for apologies," Marie told him, and ordered Adam to sit down beside Hannah, where he was served

a piece of the cherry cobbler she'd brought over, and a cup of coffee.

There were a lot of dishes to do, but I didn't mind helping clear up and do them, because everybody pitched in, and the

kitchen became a rowdy place, laughter ringing out.

I felt so happy right then, so content and full of joy, that I couldn't fathom being unhappy ever again.

A foolish thought. It's a good thing, as they say, that you can't see into the future. If I'd known what was coming

next, I wouldn't have been able to face it.

7


	32. Guthrie stays close

Two days passed, filled with everybody hovering over every breath that baby Isaac took, practically. Every little sneeze or sound

he made was utterly adorable. In between all that hovering, some chores did manage to get done. Hannah seemed to bounce back from the

birth with what seemed to me to be remarkable quickness. She took a nap in the afternoons while the baby napped, but otherwise

she bustled around the house, humming, and generally acting like the energetic Hannah she'd been before the pregnancy.

Brian persisted in calling Isaac "Scooter", and before too long Evan and Ford were calling him that, too.

In the afternoon of the second day after the baby came home, Guthrie went with me into Murphys so we could take care of the

dogs at the veterinary office.

"Shouldn't Doc G be gettin' back soon?" Guthrie asked, on the drive into town, popping his customary piece of gum into

his mouth.

"He should be," I said.

"Where'd he have to go?"

I shrugged, and told Guthrie that I didn't know. "He said he had to help a friend out. That's all I know."

Guthrie nodded, and I added, "He doesn't like to talk much about himself, or what he does for other people."

We were finished with the dogs, and heading back in thru the back door when the phone started ringing.

"Aren't you gonna answer it?" Guthrie asked, when I made no move to hurry.

"The answering machine will get it," I said.

But barely had the phone stopped ringing, when it started again. And stopped. And started again.

"Wow," I said. "Somebody's persistent."

"Maybe you better answer it," Guthrie suggested. "Since they're not leavin' a message."

So I picked the phone receiver up on the fourth ring this time. "Vet office," I said.

"Harlie?"

"Hi, Bri. What's up?" I asked.

"Are you kids about ready to head for home?" Brian asked.

"Yeah. In a few minutes. Why? Do we need something from the grocery store?"

"No. Is Guthrie there with you?"

"Yeah. He's standing right here, eating a candy bar right in front of me," I said, in mock annoyance. "Why?"

"Let me talk to him."

I thought Brian sounded a little bit strange, but I answered him teasingly, "How come? You mean you don't want

to talk to me, Bri? Gee whiz, that hurts my feelings."

"Harlie. Put Guthrie on the phone. Please."

I began to get a weird feeling in my stomach. "Is something wrong?" I asked.

"Let me talk to Guthrie, peach."

Well, even with the addition of Brian's nickname of 'peach' for me, it sounded like he meant business.

I handed the phone off to Guthrie, shrugging when he looked at me questioningly.

I listened to Guthrie's end of the conversation, but it didn't tell me much.

"Hey, Brian," Guthrie said.

Listening from Guthrie.

"Yeah. We're finished here."

Listening from Guthrie.

"Well, we were gonna go by and pick Kristin up, maybe go to the Dari Kurl for awhile-"

Brian must have interrupted Guthrie, because he stopped talking to listen again.

"Yeah. Alright. Is everything okay?"

A moment of listening.

"Okay. Yeah. Alright, we're on the way."

As Guthrie hung up, I looked at him worriedly.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I don't know. Brian just said to come straight home."

"Is it the baby?" I asked in alarm.

"No. Brian said Hannah and the baby are fine. I guess he figured that's what we'd think of first."

"Is it Adam then?" I asked in a panic. "Or-"

"Everybody at home's fine, Brian said," Guthrie assured me.

"Well, something's wrong. He didn't give you any idea at all what it is?"

"Nope. Just said to come straight home."

Guthrie held the door open for me, and started badgering me to hurry up.

"Come on," he told me, as I snapped off all the lights.

"Why couldn't Brian have just told me that? Why did he want to talk to you?" I asked.

Guthrie pulled the door shut, and I locked it, hiding the key. He didn't answer, and I looked at him as

we walked to his truck.

"Guth?"

I caught the way he tried to avoid my eye.

"Brian said something else. Something you're not telling me," I accused.

Guthrie started the truck engine, and before I barely had myself settled in the seat, he was driving.

I watched his profile. He looked worried.

"Tell me," I told him.

"I told you everything. Hannah and the baby are fine. We're supposed to come right home. That's all."

"Then why didn't he just tell me that?" I insisted.

Guthrie stared straight ahead, driving, not talking, and just snapping his gum.

"You're scaring me, Guth!"

"Brian just said to get home. And-" Guthrie hesitated.

"And what?"

"And just get there as quick as we could without speeding. And not to talk to anybody first."

I wrinkled my forehead at that. "Not talk to anybody? That's weird. Why would he say something like that?"

"I don't know, Har."

We drove in silence for a few minutes. My mind was jumping all around, thinking of horrible scenarios and possibilities.

Maybe it was the baby and Brian just hadn't wanted to say so. No, Brian wouldn't do that. He wouldn't say Isaac was fine,

and then let Guthrie and I get home and find out that he wasn't. Maybe Daniel or Evan had gotten cut up while they were

fencing. No. Even if they had, that sort of injury wouldn't warrant Brian calling up and being so mysterious. Getting cut up by

wire is not uncommon on a ranch. And, besides, Guthrie had said that nobody at home was hurt.

I hadn't realized my anxiety was showing so much, until Guthrie reached across the space between us, and took my

hand in his, giving it a hard squeeze.

"Try not to worry, until we know what it is," he said, sounding like a certain other McFadden.

"You sound like Adam," I informed him.

"Well, good. Listen to me like you would Adam, then. And try not to worry yourself crazy. It could be nothin' at all."

"Brian wouldn't call us home like this for just nothing, Guth, and you know it."

Instead of brushing me off like some brothers might have, Guthrie gave me a steady look, and then looked back

toward the road.

"You're right," he said in agreement. He gave my hand another squeeze before he let it go.

"We'll know what it is in a few minutes," he said.

We reached home quickly, much quicker than we normally would, because, despite Brian's orders, Guthrie did

speed a little.

We pulled into the driveway at home, and Evan and Ford came out of the barn.

I could tell by one look at Ford's face that whatever it was that Brian had called us home for, Ford already knew.

Evan, too.

I climbed out, and Guthrie and I walked over near the barn.

"Hey," Ford greeted us, in sort of a subdued voice.

"Hey," Guthrie answered. I said nothing at all.

"What's goin' on?" Guthrie asked them.

Ford and Evan exchanged a quick look.

I stood there, looking at both of them. Ford looked funny. Strange. Like he would choke if he tried to talk. He looked away.

I turned my attention to Evan. He looked serious. Guarded, but capable of speech.

"What is it, Ev?" I implored him. "Tell us."

"Go on in, Harlie," Evan said. "Guthrie, take her inside."

That's when I knew for sure. Something really had happened. Something terrible. Something so bad that Ford couldn't

meet my eye.

"Come on, Har," Guthrie said, putting a hand on my elbow, and propelling me towards the house.

I knew I was walking towards something that was going to hurt. And I was grateful for Guthrie. His steady presence

beside me made me feel better.

"I think it's real bad, Guth," I nearly whispered, as we went up the front steps. I turned to look up at him. "Stay close, okay?"

"Right beside you," he said quietly.

7

When we went inside, Guthrie closed the door behind us. And the conversation that had been taking place in the living

room ceased. Immediately.

Hannah was sitting on the couch, beside Clare, and Daniel was sitting in Adam's easy chair.

Brian, Adam and Crane were standing up, kind of bunched up together, talking. Both Adam and Crane were

holding cups of coffee.

Like I said, the conversation stopped when we came in.

My head was still swirling with scary things that could have happened. Since Brian had been honest about everybody

in the family being alright, my next thought was my dog. I hadn't seen any of the dogs when we drove in. That was it.

Warrior must have gotten hit by a car. Or maybe it was Jethro that had been killed by a car. Poor Guthrie. I would, I

promised myself, be strong for Guthrie if that's what it was. But, no, Evan had acted as though whatever it was, it had

more to do with me than Guthrie. And besides, rationally I knew that there was no way that the family would react in this

extreme way to one of the dogs being ran over.

"Hey, kids," Adam greeted us, and, though he looked serious, it made me feel better to hear him greet us

normally.

"Hi," I said, and when I looked closer at Hannah, it was obvious that she'd been crying. It takes a lot to

make Hannah cry.

"Is the baby sick?" I asked.

"No, sugar," Adam answered. "He's fine."

"What's wrong, then?" I asked, looking at each of them.

Adam came over to me, and took my hand. "We need to talk to you," he said, and led me over to the other

couch opposite of where Hannah and Clare were sitting.

Before I quite realized it, I was sitting down, Crane on one side of me, and Adam on the other.

I gave the faces in the room another once-over. Brian was standing, all stiff-looking, by the couch, his hands in his pockets,

and Daniel was leaning forward in his chair, his hands clasped together and his elbows on his knees.

"Come here, Guthrie," Hannah said, and patted the spot beside her on the couch. Guthrie obediently went to sit beside

her, and Hannah hooked her arm thru his.

Adam looked at me, and the look on his face was one that I'd never really seen before. It held strength, but

sadness, too. His eyes held mine, and I could see in them that he knew he was going to hurt me by what he had to say.

And hurt me deeply. There was regret there too, that he had to do it.

Crane reached for my hand, and I let him take it. I suddenly wanted Adam to get it said, and over with, and yet

I didn't. I didn't.

"Doc G was headin' home this morning. He was on Highway 4 between here and Stockton. He had a heart attack."

I stared at Adam for a moment, feeling hot and panicky. "Is he at the hospital?" I asked.

"No, baby. He didn't make it."

Now I know what it means when people say that time can stand still. I don't remember anything after that moment

until a long time after.

I do know that I began to cry, to sob, and that Adam pulled me in tight to his chest, holding me. And I know that we sat

like that for a long time, long after the afternoon sun was setting, and there were shadows gathering outside.

I know that Clare brought me a cold washcloth, and Adam sponged my face gently.

I know that someone brought me a cup of hot tea and a pill that I didn't recognize, and Adam told me to take the pill,

and drink the tea. I know that I shook my head no to both, and he said, in a voice that was decidedly firm, yet sounding

very far away, "Take it, baby."

So I swallowed the pill and drank the tea. I know that it tasted really sweet. Too sweet.

I know that Clare leaned down over me, and gave me my diabetes shot in my arm, and then she tried to push

another cup into my hand. When I didn't reach for it, Adam took it from her, and pressed it into my hand, and then,

without saying anything, lifted my hand to my mouth.

So I drank this cup, too. Chicken noodle soup.

And then Daniel was there, and he was taking Adam's place beside me on the couch.

"Daniel?" I said, feeling as if my chest was going to burst, "somebody has to go take care of Clarence. He'll

be scared."

"Alright, we'll take care of it," he said, but I knew that he didn't understand what I was talking about. And I was so

tired that I couldn't muster the energy to explain it to him.

When Daniel stood up, and pulled me up gently, he took me upstairs, and into my bedroom. I sat down on my bed,

because he told me to, and he bent over to take my boots off.

"Where's Ford?" I asked him, feeling woozy and light-headed.

"I'll get him," Daniel said,, and he was exchanged with Hannah, who helped me get into my pajamas.

Hannah sat down on the edge of my bed, covering me up with my quilt.

She brushed my hair back from my face, her fingertips running slow circles over my forehead. She was humming

something soft, something soothing. I don't know what it was.

"Ford's here," I heard her say, and I opened my eyes. Ford's face was stoic, but his eyes were red-rimmed.

"Clarence will be scared," I told him.

"I'll go tend to him."

"Make sure he has his blanket," I said.

"I will."

Hannah began to hum again, real softly, and I closed my eyes again.

"Hannah?"

"Yes, sweetie."

"Doc G wanted to talk to me about something."

"Shh. Sleep now."

7

When I woke up, it was morning, but it felt as though it was still really early. My head felt heavy, fuzzy, and then

everything came back to me in crushing remembrance. Immediately, reality filled me with pain, and when I turned my head,

and sat up, I saw Guthrie, installed in his sleeping bag, on the floor beside my bed.

For some reason, that made me feel even sadder, and I wrapped my arms around my knees, rocking back and forth.

Guthrie sat up, rubbing his eyes.

He sat on the floor, watching me, and then he got up, coming to sit beside me.

"Why did this happen, Guth?" I asked him.

Guthrie put his arm around my shoulders. "I don't know."

"He wasn't sick," I said.

"I dunno," Guthrie said again.

"People don't die, just like that, without any warning at all," I protested.

"Sometimes they do."

I hugged my knees tighter, and after a few minutes, I said, "Why did you sleep in here?"

"I told you I'd stay close," he said simply. He stood up, and started rolling up his sleeping bag from the floor.

I watched him, and when he stacked it neatly in a corner of my room, I didn't ask why.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go down and get some food, and then we'll go ridin'."

"Where to?" I asked, as if it really mattered to me at all.

"Wherever you want." Guthrie offered.

"I don't feel like it," I said, and laid back down, covering up with my quilt and facing the wall.

7

Guthrie didn't badger me. He just went out quietly, pulling the door shut behind him. I don't know how long

it was, before there was a light knock on my door, and then it opened. I didn't turn around to see who it was. I could

tell by the boot steps.

When he sat down on the bed, it sank a little from his weight.

"Did you sleep?" he asked.

"Yes."

"It's time for breakfast."

"I can't, Adam," I said.

"Okay. But soon, alright?"

I nodded without speaking.

Adam smoothed my hair away from my face. "It happened quick. That's what the deputy said. He didn't suffer, Harlie."

I couldn't manage an answer, so I just nodded.

"Rest awhile," he said, and then he went out.

I was still laying there, staring at the wall, when my door opened again, this time without any knock at all.

And Clare was there, sitting on my bed.

"It's nearly lunchtime. I brought up some soup and crackers."

"I don't want to eat," I told her.

"I know. But you have to. Come on. Sit up."

I sighed, and sat up. Clare sat there quietly, while I drank the cup of soup, tomato this time, and

ate the crackers. She took the empty cup from me when I was done, and said,

"How about going for a walk? It's really pretty outside today."

"I don't feel like it."

Clare studied me for a long moment, and then she nodded. "Okay."

So they left me alone the rest of the afternoon. Well, not alone exactly, because every little while somebody would

come to talk to me, but they didn't tell me I had to do anything, or leave my room.

I was laying on my stomach, trying to read a book, but mostly I was just staring at the pages, blurred

by my tears, when there was a rapping on the door, and it opened.

Adam came in, and came over to sit down on my bed, much like he had earlier that morning.

"It's suppertime," he said.

I kept on, just laying there and not moving, and not answering.

"Harlie." There was insistence in his voice. Quiet. But it was there. I could hear it.

I rolled onto my side, laying my arm under my head, and looked up at him.

"I don't feel like having everybody try to get me to talk," I said.

"You know better. Nobody will try to get you to talk if you don't want to."

I looked at his face, and sighed.

"You need to come downstairs and eat with the family," he told me, and his voice was firm.

He stood up then, and held out a hand to me. I knew there was no point in arguing, so I just sighed again,

and got up, taking his hand.

We went downstairs to the kitchen, where everybody was milling around, taking their seats at the table.

When we walked into the kitchen, Adam dropped my hand,, and I sat down in my spot next to Guthrie. Nobody

make a big deal out of anything. The conversation wasn't as rowdy or loud as usual, and just about general

things. When the next rain was expected, and Crane asked Ford about his college classes for the next semester.

I didn't really pay much attention. I ate my piece of baked chicken, and broccoli with cheese. I drank my glass of

milk, and, since I'd eaten so slowly, mostly because I had to force myself to eat, by the time I was finished, Crane

and Ford were already helping Clare clear the table.

"Are you going to do your shot now?" Clare asked me, in a quiet way, as she picked up the bowl of leftover

broccoli.

I shrugged, and then said, "I guess so."

My hands were shaky, and Clare noticed, and without a word she came and took over doing the shot.

I put the supplies away, and turned, already thinking about going back to my room. I just wanted to go to sleep.

Then I wouldn't have to think. Or feel.

On my way thru the living room toward the stairs, Hannah caught my hand as I walked close to the couch.

"Want to sit with us for awhile?" she asked me.

I looked at her and at Adam, sitting beside her. His expression was grave, sympathetic.

"I just want to go to bed," I said.

Hannah gave my hand a squeeze. "Okay," she said.

So I went back upstairs. I changed into clean pajamas, but even the thought of brushing my teeth seemed too

overwhelming.

I turned off my light and laid down on my bed. I closed my eyes and willed myself to go to sleep. But it was like watching

and hearing home movies in my head. I couldn't turn them off.

A gravelly voice. Telling me he couldn't get along without me. Calling me his "best girl".

Vivid blue eyes, winking at me. "Behave yourself, lass."

"Steady, Harlie Mac. Keep your eye on the end result."

"You've done a good thing, lass. You should be proud."

"I want to talk to you about something."

"Take care, lass, and I'll see you soon."

I laid there, staring upwards into the darkness. I felt a pounding in my chest. It felt as if my heart was jumping.

Finally, I threw back the quilt, and got up, opening my door, and going to the top of the stairs.

I could hear the television going, a Western movie by the sound of it. I went down the stairs, pausing at the bottom.

Evan and Guthrie were stretched out on the two couches, watching the movie. Ford sat in one of the recliners, alternately

reading from a book, and then writing in a notebook.

He looked at me as I walked past, and said, "Hi, Har."

I gave him a half-hearted wave of my hand.

At the kitchen door, I paused.

Daniel and Hannah were absent, but Brian and Clare, Adam and Crane were sitting at the kitchen table, talking

in low voices.

Brian was the first to see me standing there. "Want some hot chocolate, peach?" he asked me, raising his cup

a little.

I shook my head.

Crane held out his arm, and I went to stand beside his chair, and he put his arm around my waist.

"Having trouble getting to sleep?" he asked me.

"Yeah. I was wondering-that pill I took last night, was that something to make me sleep?"

The four of them exchanged a look.

"It was a mild sedative," Clare said. "We just thought it might help."

"It did," I said. "Actually, I was wondering if I could have one tonight."

Clare looked surprised. "I don't know," she said, and looked at the guys questioningly.

I could tell by the looks on their faces that they didn't like the idea. None of them.

"That was just for last night, kiddo," Adam said. "We don't want to make a habit of that."

"I know. But I can't go to sleep. I keep hearing his voice-" I broke off, my eyes filling with tears.

Crane pulled me down until I was sitting on his knee, and I buried my face in his shoulder.

"I'm so tired, but I can't sleep," I said, against Crane's denim shirt.

"Alright," I heard Adam say.

And, a moment or so later, Crane told me to sit up straight, and when I did, Clare handed me a pill, and a glass of water.

I swallowed it, and then Crane pushed me off his lap and stood up, too.

"I'll walk you up," he said.

And he did walk me up. And to my bedroom. And waited while I crawled under my quilt. And he sat on my bed for a few

minutes, until I could feel the welcoming beckoning of sleep approaching. I didn't know when he left. I was already asleep.

In the morning, when I woke up, there was a familiar figure on the floor beside my bed, rolled into his army green

sleeping bag. Yet again.

Guthrie was continuing to stay close.

7


	33. Scar on the heart

I fell back to sleep after seeing Guthrie, and hearing his light snoring. The next time I woke it was due to noises of voices

and footsteps going up and down the hall. I stirred and stretched, and

then, just like the day before, it all came crashing down on my memory. Turning to look, I found that Guthrie had already gone out,

his sleeping bag rolled up, and put against the wall.

"Harlie? You awake?" Brian's voice accompanied the knock on the door.

I felt like rolling over and not answering. But that wouldn't help anything.

"Yes," I said, sitting up and wrapping my arms around my knees.

Brian opened the door, and stood in the doorway. He'd clearly been outside already. His cheeks were red from the

morning wind, and he still had his jacket on.

"Breakfast's on the table," he said.

"Okay."

Brian nodded, but instead of heading back out of the room, he stood there, looking at me with an expression I couldn't

quite decipher.

"What's your plans today?" he asked me, kind of quietly.

At first I just looked at him blankly. Plans? I had none. I didn't want any. I shrugged.

"Nothing," I said, dully.

"Well, dress warm. After breakfast, I can use your help with the cattle."

I was opening my mouth to tell him I didn't want to. That all I wanted to do was stay in my room.

"I know you don't feel like it," Brian said, preempting me. "But I want you to do it, just the same."

"Why?"

"See you downstairs," Brian said, without responding to my question. "Clare made waffles this morning."

He turned to go out, his hand on the doorknob.

"I just feel like staying in my room," I objected.

Brian turned in the doorway to look at me again, and his expression suggested stubbornness.

"Why do I have to, Bri? I'm not bothering anybody," I said, in a final attempt of protest.

"You're botherin' me," Brian said flatly. Then, "I'm not askin' you, peach," he added. And, though he didn't raise his voice

at all, his intent was plain.

"Five minutes till breakfast," he said, and went out, closing the door with a decisive move.

I actually considered, for about one second, defying Brian, or pleading a headache and retreating to my room again

after breakfast. But my moment of rebellion didn't last long. I was no match for Brian on a good day of mine, let alone

how I felt right now.

So, I got dressed, pulling on my jeans, and a long-sleeved flannel shirt that used to belong to Guthrie. I tugged my boots

on over my heavier socks. I ran a brush thru my hair, not taking a care with the tangles that had accumulated. I pulled it up

into a ponytail, and went downstairs.

At the table, I took my seat, as Hannah and Crane both greeted me.

"Morning, sweetie," Hannah said, reaching over to pat my hand.

"Morning."

She was holding Isaac, and I took one of his tiny fingers in my hand.

"He looks bigger already," I said, and Hannah smiled at me.

For a moment, looking at Isaac's sweet face, I forgot about it all. Then the despondence swam over me again.

I took one waffle, and a piece of sausage, and put apple jelly on the waffle.

Clare paused behind my chair, carrying a pitcher of orange juice.

"Want to go to the grocery store with me today?" she asked me.

The thought of going to the store, where everybody would be talking about what had happened, filled me with a rising sensation of

panic. I didn't want to hear anybody talking about it, or speculating about it, or even mentioning his name.

I was saved from answering by Brian, who, on the way back to the table from refilling his coffee cup, said, in

an off-hand manner, "Harlie's gonna be helping me this morning."

"Oh," Clare said. "Well, that's good," she said, making her voice overly cheerful.

I saw that Brian's announcement surprised more McFaddens at the table than just Clare.

"Yeah," Adam said. "That's good." I could tell that Adam was pleased. Hannah, too. And Crane. They'd probably thought I'd

never leave my room.

Ranch work filled the rest of the table conversation. I let it drift around me, not really listening. I was starting to

think about things. I was starting to have some questions.

Clare packed some food for Brian and I. I wondered at that, but I didn't ask.

As everybody was finishing breakfast, and pushing in their chairs, Brian tugged on my ponytail.

"Let's go, peach," he said, and went out of the kitchen.

I sighed. It seemed like so much effort to get up, and go with him. I wished I could take one of those

sedatives again, and go to sleep.

As the kitchen cleared, it was just Hannah and I left sitting at the table.

"Be sure you take your warmer jacket," she said.

I nodded, and when I didn't say anything, Hannah reached over and touched my fingers gently.

"I'm glad you decided to go out with Brian today."

"I didn't decide," I said, in honesty. "He bullied me into it."

"Oh." Hannah gave me a small smile. "Well, I'm still glad."

"Harlie!"

I jumped a little, startled at Brian's roar, coming from the living room.

I kissed Isaac's forehead, and told Hannah goodbye, and went to the living room.

"Get your jacket and gloves, and get moving," Brian said.

I wanted to say something sassy. I did. But I pulled my jacket on, and followed him out. I'd thought we would be on

horseback, but Brian tossed the knapsack with food into the back seat of the Jeep, which happened to already be full

of fencing tools, extra gloves, and an opened sack of range cubes.

I'd remembered to grab one of Evan's ball caps that was hanging on the coat rack, and I was glad, pulling it on as

the wind whipped up through the Jeep.

Brian headed thru the pasture, and when we reached the gate leading to the next pasture up, I got out, opened the gate,

and after he'd driven thru, I closed the gate and climbed back in.

"What are we doing?" I asked.

"Logging which cows have calved, makin' sure they're all accounted for."

I nodded, and opened the glove compartment when he told me to, taking out the notebook and pen that was in there.

We drove in silence mostly, broken only when we came upon a group of cattle bunched together, when we would get

out, and write down ear tag numbers and newborn calves.

One calf, surely only a few hours old, was scrambling to his feet, his tail twitching.

Two other calves, a bit older, were scampering and playing together.

We got back into the Jeep, and just sat there watching them play for a few minutes.

"Cattle sure are smarter than sheep," I said. Without thinking, I added, "Did I tell you how stupid sheep are?"

Brian turned to me, a slight grin on his face. "No. How stupid are they?"

I realized he thought I was telling a joke, and I shook my head. I'd been thinking of the Ivy's sheep.

"No. It was when I was with-" I stopped talking.

"Never mind," I said, turning my head a little, sudden tears stinging my eyes.

I heard Brian sigh. Then he reached over and patted my knee.

Without saying anything, he started the Jeep again, and we drove on, to the next bunch of cattle.

Even with the memory of the sheep, the fresh air and sunshine did seem to clear my head a little. I didn't feel so

foggy-headed. And Brian didn't force me to talk, or act as if he was upset that I wouldn't.

We had to spread some range cubes for the last group of cattle to get close enough for me to record ear tags,

and for Brian to check the expectant mothers.

When we got back into the Jeep, Brian pulled the knapsack into the front seat.

He pulled out two sandwiches, and held out one to me.

"I'm not really hungry," I told him.

"Come on. Hannah and Clare will have my head if you don't eat."

"Okay," I said, and took the offered sandwich.

We ate in silence, watching the cattle mill around. Brian finished his sandwich, and began munching on cookies.

I took a drink from the thermos of lemonade, and then twisted the lid back on.

"Bri?" I asked, into the silence.

"Hmm?"

"When I think about Doc G, and know that I'm not going to see him anymore, ever-" I hesitated, and tried to steady

my voice. "I don't feel like I can stand it. It hurts so much!"

In true Brian form, he didn't respond immediately, or pat me, or say that everything was going to be alright. He looked out

over the cattle, and finally he said, "It's a pain like no other. Losing somebody that you love."

I knew he was thinking of our parents.

"Does it still hurt the same? After a long time, I mean?" I asked him. I didn't honestly think I could stand it, if I felt this way

forever.

"No. It's not the same after time goes by." He looked thoughtful for a moment, and then turned a little in the seat

so he was facing me.

He held out his arm, running a finger over the long, jagged scar on his forearm.

"Remember how I got this?" he asked me.

I nodded. "From when you got drug by that rogue horse a few years ago."

"Yeah." Brian studied the scar for another moment or so, and then he said, speaking slowly,

"In a way, losing somebody close to you, it's a little like this scar."

I wrinkled my forehead at him, trying to figure out where he was going with this conversation.

Brian went on talking. "I was pretty well beat up after that happened. Twenty-five stitches. At first, all I could think

about was the pain in my arm. Waking up thinking about it. Going to bed thinking about it. Then, when it started to heal,

the pain got a little less. So I could think about other things sometimes. Then, a couple of times, I did somethin' and

it split open again. So I'd go back to thinkin' on it, cause the pain was sharp again. Then, eventually,

it healed over, and I'm left with the memory of the pain and this scar." He hesitated, like he was thinking again,

choosing his words.

"When you lose somebody, at first there's just all the pain, and it's mostly all you feel. Some time goes by, and

it hurts a little less. Then one day, you might see or hear somethin' that makes you think of that person, and

it's like the wound is fresh again, full of pain. Then, eventually, sometimes after a long time, you can remember somethin'

about them, and it doesn't hurt anymore. It can even be that you smile when you think about them. The thing is, instead of

bein' where you can see it, the scar's on your heart."

I didn't think I'd ever heard Brian say so many words all at the same time. And I understood the analogy

of his words. I really did.

I reached across the seat to hug him, wrapping my arm around his neck.

"I don't know if I explained it very well," he said.

"You did," I said, and then I settled back into my own seat.

7

It was early afternoon when Brian and I got back to the house. Daniel and Ford had their heads under the hood

of my old El Camino. I wandered over to where they were.

I didn't say anything at first. I just leaned on the side.

"Hi, squirt," Daniel said.

"Hi."

"We're gonna have her up and running real soon," Ford told me.

"You are?" I asked.

"Ford's bein' a little optimistic, I think," Daniel said, not taking his head out of the engine. "She'll be running, but not too

soon."

"That's good," I said, trying to muster up a note of enthusiasm in my voice.

Daniel turned sideways to give me a knowing look. He'd obviously heard the dullness in my response.

I felt a little guilty. They'd both put a lot of time in on my car.

"Thank you both for all your work on it," I said.

Ford was gathering up tools and putting them back into the toolbox that was sitting on the ground.

"It'll be good for you to have your own wheels," Ford said.

I'd been thinking the exact same thing for a long time now, but at this moment, I just didn't care.

I nodded at Ford so he wouldn't think I didn't agree, or get his feelings hurt.

I picked up a screwdriver and handed it to Ford.

"Is Clarence alright?" I asked him quietly. "And Pearl and Brutus?"

"They're alright."

"The bird took a hunk out of his finger," Daniel volunteered.

I looked at the bandage around Ford's index finger on his right hand. I hadn't noticed it before.

"Captain Jack did that?" I asked.

"Yeah. Ornery bird."

"Did you get too close?" I asked.

"Apparently too close to suit him," Ford said.

"He really doesn't like much of anybody, except-" I hesitated, feeling a lump in my throat. Except for Doc G. But

Ford already knew that. I'd told him the night we went over to feed the animals.

"Is it very bad?" I asked instead, lifting Ford's hand to look at the bandage.

"It'll be alright," Ford said.

For the first time, I realized that Pearl, and Brutus, and Clarence, and even Captain Jack, would have to have

a new home. Pearl and Brutus were one thing, but Clarence, well, he'd lived with Doc G all his life. He didn't know

any other home. And Captain Jack, well-

I suddenly felt a new dash of harsh reality hit me. Where would they all go? And if I didn't find homes for them, who would?

"Are you going over there tonight?" I asked quietly.

"Yeah," Ford said. "I figured I would."

"I should go, too," I said. Just the thought of going into Doc G's little house, though-well, it filled me with a sense

of panic. Seeing all his things. Seeing Clarence, and knowing how much he must be missing Doc G. I just didn't think I

could do it.

I looked up at Ford, and bit my lip in nerves. "I can't, Fordie. Not yet."

"It's okay," Ford said, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder.

I was grateful to Ford for understanding without me having to put it all into words.

"Thanks," I mumbled.

I stood there a few more minutes, watching while they worked on the car. It was soothing somehow, hearing them

talk about spark plugs, and oil leaks. Mundane.

Crane stepped out onto the porch, calling Ford to the telephone. After he'd gone, I continued to watch Daniel work,

handing him tools as he asked for them.

"How was your day with Brian?" Daniel asked, still engrossed in the engine.

"Good."

Daniel looked up at me. "I'm sorry about Doc."

"Me, too."

Daniel straightened up, rubbing his lower back. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. I want to not talk about it."

Daniel nodded. "Alright. Understood."

"Guess I'll go in and see Isaac," I said.

"Okay. See ya later." Daniel turned his attention back to the engine.

I'd walked a few steps when I stopped, and considered what I'd said. I'd been really curt with Daniel. And all he'd done was

try to help me. I walked those steps back, and without any warning, I wrapped my arms around Daniel's waist from

behind.

"I'm sorry," I said, against his back. "I didn't mean to sound hateful."

Daniel straightened up again, holding onto my wrists as he turned around, and then leaned against the car.

"It's okay," he said, and looped his arms around my waist.

I fiddled with the snaps on Daniel's shirt. "It's just-too much right now, Daniel."

"I get that," he said. "I just want to say one thing. Okay?"

"What?" I asked, wishing that he wouldn't.

"Don't hold it all in." He paused, considering. "At least, not for very long. It'll overtake you. The anger, and the

grief. I know. I've done that."

I knew he was talking about the loss of our parents. Daniel had been nine, and he'd had a lot of problems dealing

with everything, for years afterward.

I nodded in acknowledgement of his comment. "I know," I said.

"If it hadn't been for Crane-I wouldn't have made it," Daniel added.

"I know," I said again.

"I'm not preaching at you. I just don't want you to shut us out."

"I'll try, Daniel. I will."

"Okay." He pulled me forward, and kissed my forehead. "Now, scram," he said, giving me a push. "I've got

work to do."

7

I spent the remainder of the afternoon holding Isaac. It was hard to believe he was five days old already. His

little face seemed to be changing already. I changed him, and dressed him a clean outfit, one of the many

received from Hannah's baby shower.

During supper I realized how tired I was. I thought I'd take a shower and go to bed.

After my shower, though, instead of feeling relaxed, I felt the now-familiar pounding in my chest, and the anxiety

about not being able to go to sleep. I didn't want to see the memories, or hear them in my head. I decided

I would ask Clare for one of those sedatives. I would be able to talk her into it, I thought.

I went back downstairs, passing thru brothers in the living room. I stopped beside Clare and said quietly,

"Can I talk to you?"

"Sure," she said, and stood up, following me to the kitchen.

"I'm not going to be able to go to sleep," I said, without fanfare.

Clare wrinkled her forehead at me. "You haven't been upstairs very long. Have you tried?"

"Yes," I said, and pushed back my guilt at fibbing to her.

"How about some warm milk?" Clare suggested.

"I need one of those sleeping pills," I said.

Clare frowned. "Now, Harlie-" she began.

"Please, Clare! I have to sleep! And I can't, not without help."

"They're not meant to be used every night," Clare said, sounding firm.

"I know. I won't." I looked at her pleadingly. "But tonight. Please?"

I thought she was wavering. Her face had softened a little. My hopes, though, were dashed

when a voice from behind us made us both jump.

"No."

Both Clare and I whirled to look. Brian's face was a thundercloud. That's the only way I knew to describe it.

"No more pills," he said, with finality.

He came over to stand next to us. "You're wrong, Harlie, to try to work on Clare."

Clare put a hand on his arm. "Brian-" she began.

"No," Brian said furiously. "She shouldn't try to get around you like this."

"I wasn't!" I protested, though that's exactly what I'd been doing.

"Then why not ask one of us?" he demanded.

I bit my lip, staring at him.

"Because you knew we'd say No. That's why," he said, sounding disgusted.

"I just need one tonight, Brian!"

"No."

"I won't be able to sleep!" I said, near tears.

"Then you won't sleep. You'll sit up all night. So be it," Brian said, without sympathy.

"You're being mean!" I accused him, raising my voice.

"Alright, I'm bein' mean."

"What's goin' on?" Adam's voice came from the kitchen doorway.

I clamped my lips shut, not wanting to answer. Brian, likewise, didn't answer immediately.

"Harlie's worried about not being able to sleep," Clare told Adam, and I knew she was attempting to smooth things

over. To try to put a better light on things.

I suddenly felt bad for trying to coerce her into something.

"I'm sorry, Clare," I said, and I really was.

"It's alright," she said, patting my arm.

"No, it's not alright," Brian said. His voice was at a level eight. Quiet enough, but deadly. "She's tryin' to guilt Clare

into givin' her a sleeping pill," he told Adam.

The look on Adam's face did me in. The disappointment. The sadness.

"Harlie," he said. That was all. But it was enough.

"Okay, so I'm horrible!" I burst out. "I'm a terrible person! Just take me out and shoot me!"

"Stop yelling," Adam said, coming over to stand near us.

"And stop talkin' that way," Brian added.

"Why?" I asked, teetering on the danger wall between sassy and sunk. "What difference does it make?"

"The difference between gettin' yourself grounded," Adam said, sounding mad.

"I don't want to go anywhere anyway," I said sullenly. "Being grounded wouldn't matter to me."

Adam looked shocked, stunned, and then mad again.

"Alright, young lady," he began, but before he could continue, Brian interrupted, his voice gritty, "How about if I tan your

backside? Would that matter to you?"

I looked at Brian's furious face, and took an instinctive step back away from him.

"Brian-" Clare said, putting a restraining hand on his arm.

"No, Clare," Brian said, shaking her hand off as if it were a bothersome fly. "This is between Harlie and me."

Now our commotion had drawn more McFadden members to the kitchen doorway.

"What in the world is going on?" Hannah asked, Isaac in her arms.

Daniel stood there too, beside Hannah, his expression serious and pensive.

"Go to your room," Brian told me.

7


	34. Late night talks

I turned and ran up the back stairs. One of the boys had left a pile of dirty shirts and jeans on the steps, obviously to take

to the basement later. I got my feet tangled in the jeans and in a fit of anger and frustration, I picked them all up,

and flung them to the bottom of the stairs.

When I got to my bedroom, I slammed the door. Well, not really slammed. That would have been adding fuel to the

already festering inferno of Brian's anger. But I didn't shut it softly, either.

I burst into tears, and made no attempt to be quiet with my crying. I picked up the papers and books on my desk

and threw them against the wall. I wished I had a punching bag. I would have put it to good use right about then.

But, since the only one around was in the barn where the boys had hung it, I knew using it was out of the question.

I'd been ordered to my room, and so instead, I pounded on my pillow.

Finally, my agitation spent, I sat, cross-legged, on my bed, hugging my pillow to me. Damn, but I was angry.

If I delved into my feelings of anger, I realized I was most angry at Doc G. If he'd known he was sick, that he had

a heart problem, why hadn't he taken better care of himself? He was always helping someone. Endless people who

needed him. He should have been more concerned about himself and his own health. I'd never been angry at Doc G.

I was confused by my feelings.

I was tired now, though, and my anger had dissipated. When I started thinking about what had happened

downstairs, I cringed. I'd lost my mind. Plain and simple. There was no other excuse for how I'd talked to Adam

and Brian. Temporarily insane. That had to be the explanation.

I started to worry, then. I hadn't seen Brian so angry since I'd lied about being in that car accident with Allison Butler

last year. My stomach was knotted in nerves. I wished mightily that Guthrie would come up, so he could tell

me what they were saying downstairs. And provide me with moral support.

But, Guthrie didn't come. Brian did, though. I heard his boot steps in the hall, before the quick rap of his knuckles

on my door. How ironic, to politely knock like that, when he was probably going to do me severe bodily harm.

After he knocked, he didn't wait for me to answer. He just opened the door and came in.

I clutched the pillow tighter to my chest, and looked at him in trepidation.

Brian closed the door quietly, and then, without even looking towards me, he went to my desk and pulled out

the desk chair, setting it in the center of the room. He gave a look at all the stuff on the floor that I'd thrown

around, and raised his eyebrows a little. He didn't say anything about that, though. He turned the chair around

and straddled it, resting his arms across the back.

Then he looked at me. Hard. I hugged the pillow even tighter. Perhaps I could joke with him, remind him teasingly

that he would go to prison if I was found murdered. I abandoned the idea immediately. Brian had never looked less in the mood for joking.

"Let's talk about the pills first," he said.

I squeezed the pillow and waited.

"They're not meant for every day. They're strong enough to be habit-forming. You're not goin' to take

anymore of them."

I didn't know how I was going to sleep without that little white pill. But I didn't say that.

"Okay," is what I did say.

"You put Clare in a really bad spot downstairs. That was wrong, Harlie."

"I'm sorry I did that," I said, and I meant it. "I wouldn't ever want to make her feel bad. I love Clare." My voice

caught a little at that.

"I know you do. She knows it, too. But that doesn't mean you can try to manipulate her."

I hadn't thought of it as manipulation, exactly. But I guess that's what it was. And I wasn't going to argue

the point.

"I'll make it right with her," I said.

Brian nodded in acknowledgement of my promise.

"We all know how bad you're hurtin' right now," he said then. "If there was a way to carry the pain for you, any of us

would do it. In a second."

I looked at him, my eyes filling with tears. And then I looked down at my hands, and picked at a hangnail.

"But, we can't," Brian went on.

"Look at me," he said, and when I did, he said, "It's no good, what happened tonight. Even grieving, you can't behave that

way."

"I guess I went crazy, a little bit," I offered.

For the first time since he'd come in, Brian's face lost some of the harshness. While he was by no means amused,

his voice was softer, not so stern.

"A little bit," he said, in agreement.

"I'm sorry for being so sassy, and hateful," I said, and I meant it.

Brian looked like he was thinking, considering, and I felt my stomach knot up again.

"I'd tell you to stay up here in your room for punishment," he said. "But you've been doin' too

much stayin' by yourself lately."

He swung his leg over the chair, and stood up, picking it up and setting it back under my

desk. He gestured around the room at all the stuff on the floor from my fit-throwing frenzy

earlier. "You can clean this mess up, and then come down and sit with everybody, until you

feel like you can sleep."

"Okay," I said, so low it was almost a whisper.

Brian put his hands in his pockets of his jeans, and stood there, looking at me.

"I guess you won't mind if I don't keep the promise I made you downstairs," he said,

and raised an eyebrow at me. "Or do I need to?"

I felt my face get warm. "No, Bri."

Brian opened the door, and then paused in the open doorway. "I'll start warming up

some milk. That's all the sleep aid you're gonna have tonight."

7

When I went downstairs, the living room was full of McFaddens, and Nancy was sitting beside

Evan on one of the couches. She got to her feet as I paused at the bottom of the stairs.

"Hey, wild child," she said, coming over to meet me.

"Hi, Nancy," I said.

Nancy surveyed me with a serious, sympathetic expression.

"I'm awfully sorry about Doc G, Harlie," she said quietly.

I nodded.

Nancy hooked her arm thru mine, and pulled me over to sit beside her. Isaac got passed around, and made over.

Brian brought me a cup of hot milk, and while I was sipping it, just listening to

the conversations around me, I saw Clare and Guthrie head towards the kitchen.

Clare was saying something to Guthrie about helping to carry some brownies from the kitchen.

I got up, and followed them, carrying my cup of milk.

Clare was laughing a little, loading Guthrie's arms with a pan of brownies, and a plate of cookies, too.

When she saw me standing there, in the doorway, she smiled at me.

"I made you some pudding," she told me. "Sugar free, but I tasted it. It's not too

bad."

"Thanks," I said.

Guthrie passed me with the dessert, and Clare smiled again, and as she would have gone

past me, I said, "Clare, I'm sorry about what I did."

"You already apologized, remember?" Clare brushed my hair off my shoulder.

"I know, but-" I suddenly felt like crying again. "I did ask you because I thought you'd

give me the pill. I knew they wouldn't want me to, so I asked you." I swiped at my wet

eyes.

"I know that, Harlie. I knew it when you asked me."

"You did?"

"Of course, silly. I've been your sister for six whole months now. I'm wise to you."

"Do you forgive me, then?"

Clare took my face in her hands and jiggled it back and forth.

"Yes. I forgive you. But you know what?"

"What?"

"Brian and Adam may not believe me, but I wasn't going to give it you."

"You weren't?"

Clare pressed her forehead against mine and peered into my eyes, and then stepped back

again. "Nope."

She looked into my cup. "Finish that, and then have another cup."

I sighed, and drank what was left. "Does hot milk really help you to sleep?" I asked her.

"Yes. It's the tryptophan."

"The try-what?" I asked.

"Never mind," Clare said, with a wave of her hand. "Just get another cup. There's still some on the

stove, I think, from when Brian heated it up."

I went to refill my cup, while she waited at the door for me.

"I want to ask you something," I told her.

"Okay. What?"

"If a person doesn't have a heart condition, why would they suddenly have a heart attack?"

Clare hesitated. "Harlie-" she began, obviously reluctant. "Why do you want to know that?"

"I want to understand what happened," I told her.

Clare surveyed me, her expression sad. "It will only torment you, wondering about it. It's just

something that happened. Trying to figure out what caused it is only going to upset you more."

She pulled on my hand with a firm tug. "Come on. Let's go sit with everybody."

I could tell she didn't want to give me any information that I might obsess about. She didn't want

to make me feel any worse. I let her pull me along to the living room without complaint, but I could

have told her that there was no way I could feel any worse.

7

While we all sitting there, I did start to get a little sleepy. The warm milk, or maybe all the

exercise and fresh air that morning with Brian had helped.

A wind had come up outside, and a light rain was starting. I cornered Guthrie, and asked him

if he was coming upstairs with me.

"How come?" he asked.

"I think I can sleep, but I don't want to be alone. We can talk awhile."

"Okay," Guthrie agreed, and we both said our good nights to everybody.

"We still need to do that movie day together that we talked about," Nancy told me when I told

her goodbye.

"I don't really feel like it," I said in honesty, though I didn't want to hurt her feelings.

Nancy didn't seem upset. She nodded, and said, "I understand." She hugged me fiercely,

and said, next to my ear, "But one of these days, I'm going to come pick you up and we'll go,

whether you want to or not."

I looked into her face, realizing how dear she had become to me.

"It's a deal," I said, blinking back the tears that always seemed to be at the surface.

I was going up the stairs, following Guthrie, as Adam was coming down.

"Scooter asleep?" Guthrie asked him.

"Yeah," Adam said. "You two headin' to bed, too?"

"Yeah," Guthrie said. "Night, Adam."

"Goodnight, buddy," Adam told him, as Guthrie went on up the stairs.

He turned to me. "Think you can sleep?"

"I think so."

"Okay," Adam said, and reached out to cup my chin in his hand in an affectionate gesture.

"Adam?"

"What, sugar?" he asked, running his hand down my cheek before dropping it to his side.

"I'm sorry for sassing you earlier."

Adam nodded. "Alright."

"Can I give you a hug goodnight?"

"I wouldn't sleep worth a darn without it," he said, and I leaned into him, wrapping my arms around

his waist.

"Goodnight."

"Night, baby."

I sat cross-legged on my bed, waiting until Guthrie got done taking a shower. When he came

in, his hair was standing up in little, wet tufts all over his head.

"If you don't comb your hair flat, it'll dry like that, and you'll end up looking like me," I told him.

Guthrie shrugged. "Oh, well," he said, but he reached up and tried to smooth his wet hair down.

Guthrie switched off the lamp, and in the darkness I could hear the rustle of his sleeping bag as

he got into it.

I turned on my side so that I was facing Guthrie's way. Even though I couldn't see him, I knew that

he'd be laying on his back, with his arms crossed under his head. That's the way he's gone to sleep ever

since he was a little kid.

"How are the dogs at the office?" I asked.

"They're all doin' alright. I think I've got a place for the little one to go."

"With who?" I asked.

"Kenny. "

"Does Kenny like dogs?" I asked.

"Sure. He and his brothers have a couple of hunting dogs. They've got that big farm and all. It'll

be a good home for it."

"Okay. Thanks for doing that."

"It's alright."

"I don't know if I can go back into the vet office, Guth. I just don't think I'm strong enough."

Guthrie was silent.

"You understand, don't you?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry to stick you with all the responsibility of finding homes for them. I know we

were supposed to do it together."

Again he was quiet.

"Are you mad at me about dumping it on you?" I asked.

"Yeah. I'm mad. I'm never gonna talk to you again," Guthrie said drily.

"I'm serious."

I heard him sigh. "No. I'm not mad. I get it."

It's part of being nearly like twins, only eleven months apart, and joined at the hip while

growing up. Well, part of that is knowing when Guthrie's mind is working on something. Just

like he knows the same about me.

And right about now, Guthrie's mind was at work, mulling something over.

"What are you thinking?" I asked.

"What makes you think I'm thinkin'?" he asked, jokingly.

"I can practically hear the wheels in your brain turning."

After a moment, he said, "Well, what I'm thinkin' is, how are you gonna know how strong

you are unless you try?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, what about Doc G's animals? The dogs and horses? And that darn parrot? They have to

have someplace to go."

"I know that!" I protested.

"Ford can't keep goin' over there every day takin' care of them. He's gonna have to go back

to college soon," Guthrie pointed out.

"I thought Ford didn't mind doing it! Did he say something to you?"

"Of course he didn't say anything. That's not what I meant. I can do it after he

goes back to school, if I need to. No big thing."

I was silent, waiting. I knew he had more to say.

"I know it's hard, but you gotta face up to it," he said.

"I'm trying to!"

Guthrie continued on as if I hadn't spoken. "Not goin' to the office, and to the house, that's one thing.

But the funeral will be soon. Probably in a couple of days. You'll have to be strong for that."

I wanted to scream at Guthrie, and tell him to stop talking about it. I wanted to stick my fingers

in my ears like a little kid so I couldn't hear.

Instead, I said, fiercely, "I won't go."

"You have to go," Guthrie said, in what I supposed to him was a reasonable way.

"Who says so?" I asked, in a biting tone. "Is it written down in a stupid book of rules somewhere?"

"Har," he said simply, and I heard the disapproval in his voice.

"You don't understand, Guthrie! You don't understand how much it hurts!" I accused.

The sleeping bag rustled again, and I knew Guthrie was getting up. He went to the door and

opened it, and the light from the hallway came in.

"Don't leave, Guth," I said, feeling desperate, and sorry that I'd made him want to get away from me.

"I'm not leavin'. Just goin' down to get a glass of milk. I'll be back."

And he did come back, though I thought maybe he wouldn't.

He shut the door, and I heard him crawling back into the sleeping bag, and then

the munching of cookies.

"I'm sorry for saying you don't understand," I said, softly.

"You don't have to be sorry. I told you, I get it."

Once the crunching of the cookies ceased, Guthrie shifted around, and I knew he was in his

sleeping position again, on his back, arms crossed under his head.

"Think you can sleep?" he asked.

I thought there was no chance of that at all. I was all stirred up now, thinking about things.

But, I knew he was asking because he was tired, and didn't want to talk anymore.

So I said, "Yeah. I think so."

"Okay. Night, Har."

"Night, Guth."

7


	35. A visitor in a dream

Guthrie fell to sleep almost immediately. I laid there for awhile, listening to the comforting sound of his

light snoring. Every once in awhile I could hear voices in the hallway, as the rest of the family headed

to bed.

"Come here, lass. I want to talk to you about something-"

The gravelly voice, and crooked smile. He was beckoning to me. As I walked toward him,

he kept walking further away. I called to him to wait for me, and let me catch up. But he kept

walking. I began to cry, not understanding why he didn't listen. Why wouldn't he wait for me?

I woke up then, and the tears in the dream were on my face. I sat up, squeezing my pillow to my

chest, and shaking. It had seemed so real. Almost as if I could have touched him.

I got out of bed, picking my way carefully around where I knew Guthrie was sprawled on the floor.

I opened the door and went out, shutting it behind me. I stood there in the hallway, shaking. I could

wake Guthrie up, I knew. He wouldn't mind. But, instead, hearing vague noises from below, I headed

down the stairs.

I paused at the bottom of the stairs, letting my eyes adjust to the dim light of the room. It was still raining outside,

and lightning flashes lit up the sky, shining into the windows. The lamp on the end table lit up the room

only minimally, and he looked up from the book he was reading.

I stood there, silently, looking at him. I was shivering, and I was frightened.

"What is it?" he asked me, laying his book to the side.

"A dream," I told him.

He held out his arm in invitation, and I went, curling up beside him as he wrapped his

arms around me.

"It was so real," I said. "He kept walking away, and I asked him to stop. He wouldn't."

Crane pulled me in tighter to his side.

"I could see him-so clear-" I tried to explain.

"Dreams are strange things sometimes," Crane said.

"I don't like dreaming about him. It just makes it hurt more."

"Hmm," Crane said. "You know, some people believe that when you dream about a person, that's

their way of visiting you. Letting you know that they still care about you."

I hadn't ever heard this before. I pressed my cheek against Crane's shoulder.

"Do you believe that?" I asked him.

"I've had some dreams that I wanted to believe were a message."

After that, we didn't talk. I didn't feel like it, really, and Crane is good about sensing

things like that. He reached up to turn off the lamp, and we sat in the darkness, lit only by

the occasional flash of lightning outside.

I went to sleep against his shoulder. Sometimes a girl just needs

her big brother.

7

When I woke up the next morning, I was still on the couch where I'd been sitting with Crane

in the early morning hours. He'd covered me with a blanket, and I snuggled under it, listening as

the house began waking up.

I was thinking about what Guthrie had said the night before. And I started thinking, too, about

a lot of other things. Like, who was going to arrange Doc G's funeral? And what would happen to his office?

Would a new vet come and take over? That didn't seem right, somehow. Somebody else using his office,

and his things?

It was time, I decided, for me to stop hiding and start doing. I got up, folding the blanket, and laying

it on the end of the couch. I went upstairs and pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt, then went back downstairs

carrying my socks and boots in my hand.

Before I got to the kitchen, I could smell bacon and coffee.

There was a general chorus of 'good morning'. I paused behind Ford's chair, where he was forking bacon

and scrambled eggs onto his plate.

"I'm going over to the house to check on the animals," I told him. "Will you go with me?"

Ford turned, and made no attempt to hide his surprise. "You don't have to."

"I know, but-" I hesitated. "Will you go, too?"

"Sure. I will."

"Okay," I said, and went on around the table to my own seat.

My announcement had gotten the attention of pretty much everybody.

"Are you sure, sweetie?" Hannah asked, before I sat down.

"No," I admitted. "But I need to try."

Ford gave me an encouraging smile, and Guthrie stopped eating long enough to slap my knee, his way, I knew, of

sending his approval.

"See?" I said, sotto voce. "I do listen to you."

I ate my breakfast, intent on my own thoughts. As everybody was finishing up, scooting back chairs, and drinking

the last of the coffee, I looked down the table toward Adam's area, though I included everybody in my question.

"Have you heard anything about when the funeral is?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

They exchanged looks, and then Daniel spoke up quietly. "It's the day after tomorrow. At one in the afternoon."

"At the church?" I asked.

Daniel nodded.

I wrinkled my forehead. "Who is planning everything? Picking out the songs and things?"

Now I really had surprised them all. I could tell by the startled expressions on their faces.

Hannah answered. "Marie said that Doc G had all of that arranged already."

"He did?" I asked, in a small voice. Then, as I thought it out, I looked at all of them questioningly.

"Why would he do that?"

None of them wanted to answer. They all looked uncomfortable.

"It's not that uncommon." It was Hannah who spoke up. "A lot of people choose to do that, so that their family

and friends don't have the worry of it."

"Oh." I thought some more. "Or maybe he did it because he knew he was sick!" I felt my cheeks get all hot, and

my stomach knotted.

"Well," Hannah said, in a soothing voice. "Maybe."

I stood up so fast that my chair nearly fell backward. "How could he do this!"

Hannah reached out for my hand. "Do what, sweetie?"

"If he knew he was sick, that he had a heart problem, then why didn't he take better care of himself?"

"Why do you think he didn't take care of himself?" Hannah asked, still holding onto my hand.

"Because. He was always doing something for someone! Helping people, no matter what they wanted! Maybe if

he'd said 'No' once in awhile to people, he wouldn't have had a heart attack!"

Hannah's eyes glistened with tears. "Oh, sweetie, you don't know that."

Brian stood up, and came to stand behind me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders, and resting his chin

on the top of my head.

"Doc G lived his life the way he wanted to live it, peach."

"I know that," I admitted.

"Try not to focus on why it happened," Hannah advised.

I nodded, knowing that she and Brian were both right. If I could just get all the 'whys' out of my head.

When Ford and I got ready to go, he offered to let me drive, but I shook my head.

"That's okay," I told him. At the last minute, Daniel arrived, motioning for me to move over to the middle of the

seat, so he could slide in, too.

When I gave him a look, he said, in an off-hand manner that didn't fool me one bit, "I thought I'd ride along. I'd

like to take a look at this man-eating parrot."

I recognized Daniel's presence for exactly what it was. Support. He was worried about how I would handle

today. He was looking out for me, just like he's always done.

As we rode along, I was quiet. Daniel and Ford didn't have much to say, either, and as we reached the road that

turns off to Doc G's house, Daniel took my hand.

The horses were all standing at the gate by the barn. The four Doc G had brought from his friend's house, and his own

horse, Snickers. As we parked, and got out, Brutus came running up, his entire body wagging a welcome. Ford scratched behind Brutus's ear.

"Let's do the horses first," he said.

"Yeah," Daniel agreed. "We'll go in the house together."

"What was the plan for these horses?" Daniel asked, patting a velvety nose. "Was he goin' to keep them?"

"No. He was going to rehome them." I answered.

"Sell them?" Daniel asked then. "Or give them away?"

I tried to remember the conversation we'd had about the horses. What I did remember of it, was mostly Doc G telling

me that I didn't need to be so curious about things that weren't my business.

"I don't think he ever said one way or the other," I told Daniel.

"They're fine horses, for sure," Daniel said.

"It wouldn't be hard to find buyers for them," Ford agreed.

The thought was overwhelming, and I guess it showed on my face, because Daniel said, "Don't worry about it right

now."

"Maybe we could ask the lady he got them from," Ford suggested. "See what the plans were that they agreed on."

"Good idea," Daniel said.

I thought it was a good idea, too, and then I realized that she might not even know about Doc G.

"You know a way to get in touch with her?" Daniel asked me.

"I could call information for her telephone number," I said.

"We'll help you," Daniel said, taking my hand again, and squeezing it.

"Okay," I said.

When the horses were fed and given fresh water, we started toward the house. In front of it, I stopped walking,

and stood there, trying to gather my courage.

"You can wait in the truck, Har," Ford told me, running his hand over my back.

Good old Ford. Always trying to make things easier for me.

I shook my head in refusal.

Daniel hooked an arm around my neck. "There's no shame in it," he said. "Not bein' ready."

"I have to try," I said.

Ford and Daniel exchanged a look, and then we went up the stairs together. Ford took the key from above the door,

and unlocked it.

Ford went in first, then I did, and Daniel was behind me.

The house looked the same as it had just a few days before, when I'd been here with Ford. I don't know what I expected

exactly. For a minute I thought it would be alright, after all.

Then came the loud shrieking of an angry Macaw parrot.

"Hello, Doc! Hello, Doc!"

Captain Jack was agitated, jumping from his perch to the sides of the cage, and back again, squawking.

He kept repeating over and over, "Hello, Doc!" until Ford got a towel from the kitchen drawer and put it over the cage.

"Maybe that will shut him up," Ford muttered.

I was glad that Ford had done that. And it worked, because Captain Jack settled down.

Pearl was walking between all three of us, welcoming us with all the graciousness of a Southern belle.

"This the dog you and Guthrie found that day?" Daniel asked.

"Yes. She was tied in the back of his truck."

"That guy that was runnin' the dog mill?"

I nodded.

I went into the kitchen. Everything looked fine, the same as usual. I stood there for a few minutes, looking

around.

I straightened one of the dishtowels, folded where Doc G had left it, and then I wandered back into

the living room, where Daniel was sitting on the couch, Pearl laying beside him.

Ford had filled the feed bowls and the water, and Brutus was busy snarfing his food down.

"Where's Clarence?" I asked.

"He's laying on the bed. I can't get him to come and eat," Ford said.

I went down the narrow hallway to where Doc G's bedroom was. Given Clarence's advanced

age, and his considerable weight, there was no way he could jump onto Doc G's bed unassisted.

Which was why a couple of years before, Doc G had made a simple set of three stairs, so

Clarence could get on the bed when he wanted to.

When I stepped into the bedroom, Clarence looked at me, and it seemed all the sadness

of the world was in his chocolate eyes. Between his paws was the necessary blue blanket.

I sat down on the bed and laid my hand on his back. "Hello, Clarence," I said.

And that's when Clarence began to cry. Well, not cry exactly, but it was like crying.

It wasn't a whine, and it wasn't a whimper. It was low, and it was sad.

"Don't, buddy," I begged him. "Please don't."

I rubbed him, and talked to him, but he kept on. A thought occurred to me. Maybe something of

Doc G's would sooth him. I went to the closet and opened the door. The closet was amazingly

tidy. Jeans on hangers. I closed the door and went to the chest of drawers, sorting thru the

work-worn t-shirts. I pulled one out, and offered it to Clarence.

He smelled it, and then pulled it closer with his teeth, laying it under his chin. It had been a good

idea, I thought, as it seemed to settle him down.

I gave his head another rub, and started to go back out to the living room. I saw Doc G's pocket

date book laying there on the nightstand. I picked it up, thinking. How many times had I seen him

flip thru the well-worn pages to find somebody's phone number, or see a note he'd scribbled to himself

about a medication for an animal? Too many to count. He called the little notebook "his brains" and

said he would be lost without it. I wondered why he'd left it at home when he went out of town.

His favorite pen was still attached, too. I opened it, turning the pages almost reverently.

Reading thru the notations, some I understood and some I didn't.

"Petey. Anxious. Call." Mrs. cat, Petey.

"Diana Taylor. November 12." Who was Diana Taylor, I wondered.

I flipped on to the previous week. There was no notes or clues as to where Doc G had

gone, or what friend he'd been helping.

When I turned the pages past today into the upcoming week, there was a few appointments

listed in the next few days. I sighed, wondering again what folks around here were going to do

without a vet. I began walking slowly, as I read, towards the living room.

My eye caught on the upcoming weekend, where I saw my name written.

"SC. H. McFadden. 2 p.m."

H. McFadden? That had to be me. SC? What was that? SC Davis, maybe?

I remembered that Doc G had said he wanted to talk to me about something, when

he'd called and left the message on the answering machine. Maybe he'd been planning to take

me to the vet school for something. As a surprise, maybe.

My heart fluttered a little. Whatever it was, it had been meant as something special. I'd bet my

last dollar on that.

I stopped walking, staring at the words thru blurred eyes.

"What are ya lookin' at?" Ford asked.

I looked up at Daniel and Ford, sitting on the couches, Brutus and Pearl taking residence

on their laps.

"It's just something-" I paused.

"You okay?" Daniel asked. "You look kind of pale."

I started to tell Daniel I was okay, but then the overwhelming thought of never being

able to talk to Doc G again, to see him, or be with him, just learning from him, was all too much.

I let the little brown book drop on the table, and ran outside. I made it to the porch railing

before I leaned over, throwing up. Daniel was there beside me, resting a hand on my back.

I kept on, even when there was nothing. Just dry heaves. It seemed like I couldn't get my

breath.

"Get a glass of water, Ford," I heard Daniel say.

I heard the screen door bang shut again, and Daniel rubbed my back in small circles.

"It's okay," he said quietly.

Ford came back out with a glass of water, and held it out to me.

I took a few sips, and then Ford took the glass back.

"Okay?" he asked me, looking anxious.

I nodded, even though I didn't really feel okay. They were both looking so concerned, and

I didn't want them to worry.

"I'm okay now," I said, trying to sound certain.

"Yeah. And I'm Willie Nelson," Daniel said.

"I'll be okay in a minute," I amended.

"Let's get headin' home, if we're done here," Daniel said.

"Okay. I'll take this glass in and lock everything up," Ford agreed.

"Wait a minute," I said, catching Ford's sleeve.

When they both looked at me expectantly, I said, "I don't want to leave Clarence."

Ford and Daniel exchanged glances.

"He's old," I said. "And he keeps crying. I-I think we should have him with us."

"Maybe so," Ford considered. He looked at Daniel again. "I don't think he's eaten since I

was here yesterday."

Daniel shrugged. "It's okay by me."

"I'll get him," Ford said.

"Get his blanket and that shirt that he's laying with, too," I told Ford.

We had Clarence installed in the cab of the truck, complete with blanket and shirt, and

we were heading down the driveway when I asked Ford to stop.

"I forgot something," I told him.

"Can we get it later?"

"No! Please, Ford."

Ford sighed. Daniel sighed. And Ford did a U-turn, and stopped in front of the house again.

Since Clarence was half on Daniel, and half on me, Ford offered, "What is it? I'll get it."

"That little book I was looking at. It's brown. I think I dropped it on the table in the living

room."

"Why do you want that?" Ford asked.

"I just do."

"But isn't whatever it is, isn't that what made you get upset?"

"Yes," I admitted.

"Then why do you want it?" he demanded. "I don't think you-"

"Just go get it for her, Ford," Daniel intervened.

"Okay," Ford said, looking dubious.

He got out to go unlock the door, and went into the house.

When he came back out and got in, he handed me the frayed little journal, and I stuck it in

the pocket of my jacket.

"Thank you," I said, giving him a grateful look.

"You're welcome."

As we drove, we were all mostly quiet, the only sounds being Clarence sighing, as he

changed position.

"I guess I didn't do so well there today," I said, with regret.

"You did fine," Ford said loyally.

"Yeah," Daniel agreed. And, then he added, in an old country saying, "You did as fine as frog's hair."

7


	36. The hardest and the right

When Ford and Daniel and I got home, I recognized the extra truck parked in the driveway as belonging to Kenny. He and Guthrie

were coming down the front steps, and Kenny had the smallest dog from our dog rescue in his arms.

Ford lifted Clarence out, and set him on the ground, and immediately Warrior and Jethro came over to sniff him, and make friends.

As we met up halfway across the yard, Kenny said a general hello to all three of us.

"Hey, Kenny," Ford greeted him.

"Hey, Ford."

Kenny looked at me. "Hi, Harlie."

"Hi."

When nobody else said anything, Guthrie spoke up.

"Kenny's gonna take the little one home today," he offered into the ensuing silence.

"That's good," I said dully.

I'm not the smartest, or the most intuitive person, but I could tell by the way that Kenny was standing there, watching

me, looking all serious and sad, that he wanted to say something to me. Something sympathetic. Something kind.

And I didn't want to hear it. To prevent him from saying it, I said, "Bye, Kenny," and walked quickly up the front steps.

Daniel followed me up on the porch, holding the door open for me.

"The kid likes you," he said.

I shrugged. "I guess."

"He's a good kid, isn't he?"

"He's nice," I said. I shrugged again. "It's just out of my thinking right now. Dating, I mean." I looked at Daniel.

He nodded. "I get it," he said.

Ford came bounding up the steps behind us. "What's for lunch?" he demanded, in a general way. "I'm starving."

We went into the kitchen where the family was assembled at the table, eating sandwiches, and what looked like potato

soup.

Adam stood up as we came in. "Hey," he said in greeting, and looked at me with concern.

"Doin' alright?" he asked me.

"I'm okay," I said, going to the sink to wash my hands.

When I turned around, from drying my hands, it was to see the looks being exchanged between Daniel and Adam. I knew it

was Adam's way of finding out the truth of how I'd really held up, going to Doc G's house.

"It wasn't easy for her," Daniel was saying quietly.

I sighed. There were no secrets in the McFadden household. Any minute now, and everybody would know I'd spent

most of the time there upchucking over the railing, because I couldn't take it.

But Daniel didn't reveal that. Ford didn't, either. They both washed their hands and sat down in their chairs, reaching for

bowls and bread. I sat down, too, scooting my chair up to the table, as Hannah reached over to pat my hand. She gave me a

smile of understanding, but didn't say anything.

"How's Isaac?" I asked.

"He's just fine," Hannah said, practically beaming. "I think we'll take him to church next Sunday."

"If it's not too cold out," Adam corrected, from his end of the table.

Hannah rolled her eyes. "Yes, Adam," she said, and there were some chuckles around the table.

7

That afternoon, I took Doc G's date book out of my jacket pocket, and tucked it into one of my dresser drawers, under

all my socks. After that I went out to do my chores, and then took over for Hannah with Isaac so she could rest awhile, and

do some things upstairs. I was sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch, and holding him on my lap when

Adam came in. He looked distracted, and was ruffling thru some papers on Crane's desk.

"Where's Hannah?" he asked me.

"Upstairs. She had some things to clean up."

Adam nodded in acknowledgement. "The baby stuff's taken over the bedroom."

I cradled Isaac in my hands, looking into his face. "He's changing so much every day."

"Yeah." Adam came to stand beside me. "It's pretty amazing, alright."

"Yeah, it sure is," I said, continuing to gaze at Isaac with love.

Adam sat down in the chair opposite me. "I've been wanting to talk to you about something."

I looked up at his serious face. "Is this about last night?"

Adam looked puzzled for a moment. "What about last night?" he asked.

Obviously, I'd stuck my foot in my mouth. I had no desire to remind Adam about how I'd hollered at him

and Brian.

"Nothing," I said hastily. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Daniel says you had a rough time today."

I sighed. "Some people can't keep quiet," I muttered.

Adam frowned, obviously not impressed. "The smart mouth's not necessary," he said. "And it just so happens that

Daniel didn't volunteer any information. I asked."

I felt my face warm in embarrassment. "Sorry," I said. I felt bad, for automatically assuming that Daniel would run

to anybody about what had happened.

"You know Daniel better than that," Adam said, continuing with his scolding.

"Yes," I admitted. "I do. I guess I'm feeling hyper-sensitive lately."

Adam nodded, and I waited.

"Bein' in Doc's house was pretty tough to take, huh?" he asked.

I met his intent gaze. "Yeah," I acknowledged.

Adam watched me with sympathy, obviously waiting for me to say more.

"It was-hearing Captain Jack talk, and Clarence-" I hesitated. "But-"

"But what?" he prompted me.

I raised the sleeping Isaac to rest against my chest. "Mostly it was because of Doc G's brains."

"Come again?" Adam asked, plainly stumped by my words.

"His planner thing. His date book. I found my name in there. He was going to take me somewhere

next weekend. At least I think that's what it meant."

"Oh," Adam said, sounding regretful. "I'm sorry, baby."

"Yeah," I said, my eyes filling with tears. "He said on the answering machine that he wanted to talk

to me about something. I keep wondering what it was."

"Maybe about where he wanted to take you to?" Adam suggested.

"I don't know. I think it was about something else, maybe. Now I'll never know what it was," I said, and

caught my breath on a sob.

Adam stood up. "Here," he said. "Let me take him." He leaned down and took Isaac from me, patting his

little back gently, and then walked over, laying him in the bassinet set up beside the couch.

Then he sat down on the end of the couch, taking me by the arm and tugging me up from my seat on the floor.

"Comere," he said, and I got to my feet, sitting down next to him.

Adam wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and tucked my head under his chin.

He didn't say anything for a few minutes, but just patted my back as if I was Isaac.

"I wish I knew what it was," I said. "I wish he was here to tell me-"

"I wish he was, too."

"I'll bet it was something good," I sniffed.

"I'd bet the ranch that it was," Adam said, in agreement.

We sat like that for a few minutes, in silence, with just the sound of the baby's breathing.

"Nobody will come down on you if you can't face the services," Adam said. "There's no shame to it."

I was surprised a little by that. When Guthrie had told me I'd have to get stronger, I'd told him that I

wouldn't go. Beyond that, and asking who was arranging things, I'd done everything I could to keep from thinking about the

actual funeral. I thought that Guthrie would not approve, for sure, if I didn't go. But I didn't say so.

"I don't know-"

Adam gave me another pat. "You can think about it. Just remember what I said, alright?"

"Okay. Thanks, Adam."

"You're welcome." He kissed the top of my head.

7

I pulled on a jacket, and went for a walk, wandering down the road aimlessly.

I did some thinking, like Adam had said. There was no putting it off. Doc G was going to be buried

the day after tomorrow, and I needed to make a decision. By the time I got back to the house, it was nearly dusk and Hannah was

standing on the front porch, a shawl over her shoulders, looking anxious.

"There you are," she said, as I came within hearing range. "I was getting worried."

"I'm sorry I worried you. I just needed some air.," I said, pausing on the step below her.

"I understand. I tell my brain that you and Guthrie aren't my babies anymore, but my heart just doesn't listen

sometimes."

In a sudden burst of emotion, I stepped up and hugged Hannah hard. "I don't mind being your baby for awhile longer," I

said.

"I'm glad to hear that."

I raised my face to look at her. "I'm sad, Hannah. I'm so sad!"

"What can I do to help you?" Hannah asked, her face full of shared pain.

"I don't know," I said, in honesty. "I don't know about anything right now."

Hannah gripped my arms in her hands. "We'll get thru it together," she said, sounding so fierce that she

reminded me of a mama lion.

7

I picked at my supper. Normally salad and fish sticks are among my favorites, but I just had no real appetite.

"Wanna go to a movie or somethin' tonight?" Guthrie asked me.

"No. Thanks, anyway, Guth."

After I'd helped clear the table, and Evan and Crane and I had done the dishes, I did my shot. Then I went to the living room

where everybody else was already gathered.

I sat down on the arm of the couch. I must have been fairly obvious, because Adam stopped talking to Crane and

said, "What's on your mind, sugar?"

" I thought about what you said earlier. About the-the funeral," I said, hesitating over the word. "I don't want to

go."

Something crossed Adam's face. I'm not sure what it was, but it was gone quickly. "Alright," he said.

I looked at Brian, who, I could tell by the expression on his face, didn't approve of what I'd said.

"I mean, I don't want to go, but I don't think that not going is the right thing, either," I went on.

"You still have a day to think about it," Crane offered.

"I know you said it was up to me," I said, looking at Adam. "But I'd like to know what you really think about it."

"I think in the long run it would help you to go," Adam said.

I looked towards the next seated brother. "Crane?"

"I think Doc G would understand, either way," Crane answered.

Brian, who had stayed quiet thus far, met my eye when I looked his way. "What do you think, Bri?" I asked.

"I think you should go," Brian said, without hesitation.

I nodded, and stood up. I was tired. It had been a long, emotionally charged day.

"I think I'll go up to take a shower and go to bed," I said. "Night, everybody."

A chorus of goodnights followed me up the stairs. When I came out of the shower, my curls springing everywhere,

Brian was waiting next to my bedroom door, leaning against the wall, a cup of something steaming in his hand.

"Let me guess," I said. "Hot milk, right?"

"Right."

I took the cup from him. "Thanks, Bri."

"You're welcome."

I looked up at him. "You sounded so certain downstairs. About me going to the funeral."

"I am certain about it."

"How come?" I asked.

"Well, like Adam said, it would help you in the long run. There's the closure, and all of that. But I think you'll regret

it later if you don't go."

"Why?"

"You want to honor Doc G, don't you?" he asked.

"Of course I do."

"Well, that's what a funeral is. A way to say goodbye, yeah. But by being there, it's also a way to show respect. To honor somebody

who was important in your life."

"Oh." I thought about what he'd said for a moment. "I do want to do that. Honor him. And show respect."

Brian looked thoughtful for a moment, and then he said, "There's a saying, peach. 'Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing, are the

same thing'."

I nodded, pressing my face into his side and giving him a hug.

7

I drank my hot milk, and then read for awhile, waiting for Guthrie to come up. I hadn't asked, and he hadn't said,

but I still thought he would come and take his spot on the floor.

And he did come, when I was on the third chapter of my new book that Crane had given me for Christmas. He had a bowl

of popcorn in one hand, and the box with the checkerboard and checkers in the other.

"Hey," he said. "Time to put up the book, so I can beat your socks off at checkers."

I laid the book aside. "Big talk for an elephant ears," I told him.

For the next hour we played several games of checkers. It was 3-1, in Guthrie's favor, of course.

Ford wandered in, and sat, straddled in my desk chair, watching for awhile.

When I finally gave up, conceding victory to Guthrie, he packed up the checkers, snickering.

"Don't you know that elephants can take hyenas, every single time?" he snorted.

"I let you win," I told him.

"Yeah, yeah. Want to play a game, Ford?" he asked.

"Nooo," Ford shook his head. "Not tonight."

"You're chicken, that's what," Guthrie said, setting the box of checkers on the floor.

"Whatever you have to tell yourself," Ford joked back.

I tucked my legs up under my chin, watching as Guthrie rolled out his sleeping bag.

"Goin' down to get some juice," Guthrie said, and went out the door of my room.

"I wish I had some itching powder, or somethin' to put in his sleeping bag," Ford said.

I shook my head at him. "You two are crazy."

We were quiet for a couple of minutes, and then I said, "When do you go back to college?"

Ford looked thoughtful. "What day is this?" he asked. "I'm all mixed up on the days."

"I am, too."

"Tomorrow's the 2nd, isn't it? I'm supposed to be back by the 10th."

"Oh." Just the thought of Ford and Daniel both leaving made me feel all unsettled and shaky inside.

"You'll be goin' back to school soon, too," Ford said.

"I don't want to think about it."

"Well, you'll have to," Ford said mildly. "And you've got your new class to think about, too."

I shook my head. "I'm not going to do the class. I wouldn't be able to concentrate. And it just doesn't seem important

anymore."

"Stayin' busy is the best thing," Ford said, in disagreement. "And it is important. Besides, I thought Crane already paid for it."

"He did," I said, with a sinking feeling. "But I'll pay him back."

Ford regarded me seriously. Adam sometimes says that Ford was born 'an old soul', and it's times like this that

I tend to agree with that statement.

I knew what he was thinking. Crane would not be happy. He was not going to simply take my decision without

question or argument.

I shrugged, not wanting to talk about it anymore. "I don't know. I'll see. I'll talk to Crane."

Ford nodded, and dropped the subject.

When Guthrie came back, Ford said goodnight and went out.

Guthrie snapped out the lights, and crossed the room in the dark.

"Dadgummit," he muttered.

"What's wrong?"

"I just spilled the popcorn that was left in the bowl."

"You're cleaning it up," I warned him.

"Not now, I'm not. In the morning, I will."

"Okay," I agreed.

After Guthrie had settled into his sleeping bag, we were both quiet for a few minutes.

"Thanks for playing checkers tonight," I said.

"No problem."

"For a little while I actually didn't think about it all. That was nice."

I heard Guthrie sigh. "I'm tryin' to help you, Har. I just don't know what to do."

"You are helping me," I assured him.

Guthrie was silent.

"I mean it, Guth. It's really helped me, you staying in here at night, and stuff. I don't think I could sleep, otherwise."

"It's alright," Guthrie said, and in typical McFadden style, tried to change the subject. Guthrie's not comfortable

with a lot of attention or thanks.

"I think Kenny's gonna call the little dog Rocky," he volunteered.

"That's a cute name."

"Yeah. He says his cousin might take a couple of the bigger dogs."

I was impressed by Guthrie's success at finding homes for the dogs. "Wow. You've done a great job, Guth."

"It's his cousin, Drake. I think it'll be a good home for them. I don't want you to worry about that."

"I wasn't worried. I trust you."

"Okay."

After a couple of minutes, Guthrie spoke up again. "Our money came from the county. For helping with the dogs."

"It did?"

"Yeah. They're checks we have to sign and take to the bank to cash. They're on Crane's desk."

We talked for awhile longer, each of us sharing memories of when we were little.

"Sometimes when I think about it, it's hard to believe. I mean, Brian was my age, when they started taking

care of all of us," Guthrie said.

I snuggled down under my quilt, thinking, too.

"It had to be horrible for them," I agreed.

"I hope I can do as well as them, at whatever I have to face in my life," Guthrie said, sounding thoughtful.

"I'm going to go to the funeral," I said quietly.

"That's good, Har. I'm glad."

A few minutes of silence passed again. Into it, I said, sleepily, "I hope I can do it."

Sounding just as tired as me, Guthrie said, "You'll be able to. I'll stay with you."

A few more minutes, and I suddenly remembered something that I'd wanted to ask Guthrie.

"Guthrie?"

No answer.

He'd gone to sleep.

7

In this chapter, during the conversation Brian and Harlie are having, the saying Brian shares with her, 'Sometimes the hardest thing and the right

thing, are the same thing', is borrowed from my faithful reviewer, Mogs! Thanks, Mogs!


	37. Eddie in the mirror

Evan made breakfast the next morning. Pancakes with scrambled eggs and sausage. His eggs were burned, and so were some

of the pancakes. He got downright snarly when Ford and Daniel kept teasing him about it.

I ate some eggs, and drank my orange juice. When I was done, I went into the living room and sat down at Crane's desk.

I was sifting thru some of the papers on the desk, until Crane came up behind me, and asked me what I was looking for.

"Guthrie said we had checks, for helping with the dogs."

"Yeah." Crane reached around me, and pulled a couple of envelopes out of one of the compartments.

He handed me one of them, and laid the other one back on the desk.

I opened the envelope, addressed to Miss Harlie McFadden.

I was surprised by the amount.

"Look, Crane," I said, holding the check out for him to look at.

Crane took it, looked it over, and whistled. "Not too shabby," he said.

When he handed the check back to me, I sat there, looking at it for a minute.

"Better put it back in the envelope until you get it to the bank," Crane advised.

I did as he said, and then went in search of brothers with wheels.

I knew the Jeep was not an option, which was why I hadn't asked Crane. Evan was not likely, either. He'd forgiven me, I knew,

but that didn't mean he would let me borrow his truck. Ford and Guthrie were the best bet.

Ford was coming out of the barn, carrying two buckets of soybean meal and corn for the pigs.

"Can I borrow your truck?" I asked him.

"To go where?"

"I want to go to the bank and cash my check, and then I want to go talk to Marie."

Ford looked like he was considering.

"Or take me, if you don't want me to drive it by myself," I said, in resignation.

"It's not that, goofy, and you know it."

"I wouldn't be gone long. And I won't go anywhere besides the bank and the café. I promise," I assured him.

"Okay." Ford set the buckets down and fished in his jeans pocket for his keys.

He handed them to me, and picked up the buckets again.

"Thanks, Ford."

"It's okay. See you later."

I went into the house, pulling on my jacket which I hadn't put on when I'd went in search of Ford.

I went to the kitchen, where Clare and Hannah were working, rolling out pie crusts. Isaac was in his baby

seat, sitting on the table.

I leaned over to give him a quick kiss.

"We're making pies for tomorrow," Hannah told me. "There's going to be a meal after the funeral."

"I'm not staying for a dinner," I said shortly.

"That's fine," Hannah said, pausing in her rolling with the rolling pin to look up at me.

"I'm going into town for a little bit," I said. "Alright?"

Hannah was surprised, I could see. I couldn't blame her. I hadn't gone anywhere near town in days.

"Where to?" she asked, looking concerned.

"To the bank. And to talk to Marie."

"Oh. Well, alright," Hannah said, looking mollified. "You'll be home before lunch, though?"

I said I would, because I could tell she wanted me to say yes.

"Is that jacket heavy enough?" she asked me, going back to her rolling of pie crust.

"It's fine. See you later."

They both said goodbye to me, and I went out, climbing into Ford's truck, and starting it.

I was halfway down the driveway when I saw Adam waving at me from the fence row. It wasn't a friendly hello or a goodbye wave, or even a see

you later wave.

It was one that plainly said to stop. I sighed, and stopped, putting the truck into park, and getting out. I walked over

to the fence row to where he was, wearing his fencing gloves, and a wire snipper in his hand.

"Where are you off to?" he asked me.

"Just to town to cash my check. And to visit Marie for a little while."

"Hmmm." Adam plainly found it puzzling that I suddenly had the urge to go to town. "Did you ask permission?"

"I asked Hannah. And Ford said I could borrow his truck."

"Okay." He still looked hesitant.

I knew he was just concerned about me, so I tried to tamp down my frustration.

"I told Hannah I'd be home by lunchtime," I volunteered, to mollify him.

"Alright. Drive safe. Wear your seatbelt."

"Uh huh," I said, turning to walk back to the truck, which I'd left with the engine running, and the door open.

"I didn't hear you!" he called after me.

I stepped up on the running board and looked across the top of the truck at him.

"Drive safe, wear my seatbelt, don't drive thru high water! Got it! Yes, sir!" I called back.

"Don't be a smart mouth," he hollered back.

7

When I got to Murphys, I parked Ford's truck all the way down by the hardware store, planning to walk to the bank,

and then the further distance to the café. I knew it was foolish of me, but I didn't want to park anywhere near the veterinary office.

I cashed my check at the bank. Miss McCool, who has been a teller at the bank for as long as I can remember, regarded

me with sympathy. I guessed that I shouldn't be surprised. Everybody knew how much time I'd spent with Doc G. It was

logical that folks would know how close we had been.

I tried to curtail her saying anything to me, to the point that I was nearly curt, so that I could just get out of there.

I put the money in my jacket pocket, and walked to the café, carefully avoiding looking towards the vet office.

I went inside, the bell jingling over the door. Since the breakfast rush was over, and the lunch rush hadn't begun yet,

there were only a couple of customers. Marie, who was bent over the counter talking to old Carl Wade, looked up and

saw me, and her face brightened in welcome.

"Hullo, honey girl," she greeted me, coming over to meet me.

"Hi, Marie."

Marie squeezed my hands in hers, and looked me directly in the eye. "It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you, too."

"You got some brothers with you?" she asked, taking a quick look out the window, as if to spot male McFaddens.

"No."

"So I get to have your company for a bit?"

I nodded. "I wanted to talk to you."

"Alright." She gestured towards the counter. "Is this a counter or a table chat?"

I didn't want anyone overhearing our conversation, so I said, "Table, I think."

"Alright. How about a glass of milk?"

I would have preferred a cup of hot, strong coffee, but I nodded and said, "Yes. Thank you."

"You go sit, and I'll be right over," she told me.

I purposefully picked a table near the front, not near Doc G and I's regular booth.

A few minutes later, Marie came over to sit down across from me, a glass of milk in her hand.

She put the glass in front of me.

"How's the baby?" she began by asking.

"He's doing good. He's changing every day, it seems like."

"I'll be anxious to see him."

I took a drink of milk, and then reached for a napkin. I wiped my mouth, but I really wanted the napkin to hold, to fold into

rows, to keep my hands busy.

"What is it, honey girl?" Marie asked, coming right to the point. "What's on your mind?"

"I have some questions. I don't know who else to ask."

"Well, I'll answer them if I can," she said.

"About Doc G," I clarified.

Marie didn't look surprised. "Alright."

"It was like, even though I knew him really well, I didn't really know a lot about him."

"He was close-mouthed about himself, that's a fact," Marie agreed.

"He was born in Ireland," I said, and Marie nodded.

"Yes."

"And he had a brother that died before they came to the United States."

"Yes."

"I don't know what happened to his brother. He didn't tell me that," I said.

"That I don't know, either. He has a sister, too. I think she's been living in Oregon."

"He didn't tell me about a sister," I said.

"She was born after they came to the United States."

"Oh." I thought for a minute.

"Was he ever married?" I asked.

"He was, early on, in his twenties. She was killed in a car accident."

"Oh." I felt bad for the young Doc G. "That's sad."

"It is. Her name was Truly."

I thought I'd misunderstood. "Trudy?" I asked.

"No. Truly."

"I never heard of anyone named that before."

"It's not common," Marie agreed.

"It's pretty, though. I like it." I hesitated. "Did they have kids?" I couldn't imagine Doc G having kids that didn't want to

live around him, and be with him, right here in Murphys.

"No. They'd only been married a few months when she was killed."

"He would have been a good father," I said, my eyes filling with tears.

"Yes. He would have." Marie reached over and pulled out a cluster of napkins and laid them in front of me.

I wiped at my eyes with one of them.

"What will happen to all of his things at the office?"

"Well, eventually, there may be a new veterinarian here in Murphys." Marie's voice was gentle, though her words were

blunt.

I didn't want to think about that.

"Doc owned the building though, so I'm not sure how all that will be worked out," Marie added.

I wiped at my eyes again, and crunched the napkin into a ball.

"He was a little bit like a father to me," I said, and then immediately felt disloyal to Adam and Brian. "Is that

wrong of me to feel that way?"

"Of course not. Why would it be wrong?"

"Because. Because of the guys. You know," I tried to explain.

"I don't think any of the boys would fault you for thinking of Doc in that way."

"It's not like I was lacking anything, it's just that he added something to my life," I said, in explanation, and

then I began to cry. I laid my head on the table, trying to cry quietly, so old Carl Wade wouldn't hear me.

Marie let me cry, and finally I was able to stop, though my head was beginning to ache.

I raised my head, and dried my face with another napkin.

"Did he know he had something wrong with his heart?" I asked her.

"I don't know, honey girl. He never confided in me about that."

"Adam said you were the person that the deputies called."

"Yes. That's right."

"And it was quick, they think?"

"Yes. They think it was. He was apparently able to stop safely when he started having the heart attack, because his truck was pulled

off to the side of the road."

We sat quietly for a few minutes. There was a light rain starting outside.

Some more customers were beginning to come in now, and Marie looked at me. "Want to help me set up for lunch?"

I nodded. "Yes. Sure."

"Alright. Go wash your face in the back room, and then you can start filling the condiments and the napkin containers."

"Especially this one, right?" I asked, pointing to the dispenser that I'd used so many of the napkins out of, with my tears.

Marie patted my cheek and smiled at my weak attempt at humor.

"Yes. Especially that one."

7

I felt a little better after my talk with Marie, and was halfway home, listening to an upbeat George Jones song

when I saw a blue pickup in the road ahead of me, pulled to the side, and someone changing a flat tire.

I slowed down to go around, and then, when I saw who it was, I hesitated, and then stopped, pulling to the

side of the road, and parking carefully.

The rain had tapered off, but the ground was wet, and so were the knees of Eddie's jeans, as he knelt beside the truck.

"Hello, Harlie," he greeted me.

"Hello, Eddie."

"How have you been?" he asked me.

Before I could answer, he shook his head. "That's a stupid question. I'm sorry, Harlie."

"It's okay."

"It's a damn shame about Doc G," he said.

"Yeah. It is."

We looked at each other for a couple of moments, and then I said, "I stopped to see if you needed a ride, or for me to call somebody,

or anything."

"Naw, I think I've got it handled." He stood up, wiping his muddy hands on his jeans.

"Okay. I better get going. Ford will be wondering where I'm at."

He nodded, and I hesitated, and then gathered my nerve, and said, "I've been wanting to apologize to you."

"For what?"

"The night of that party-I acted really stupid, and I shouldn't have treated you the way I did. I know you were just trying

to help me."

I'd surprised him. I could tell by the expression on his face.

"That's alright. Everybody's entitled to some crazy now and then," he said.

I found myself smiling at that, and he smiled back. That great smile, with those perfect teeth.

"So Ford and Evan rounded you up that night, huh?" he asked.

"Yeah. They sure did."

"Evan was pretty mad, it sounded like on the phone. He have something to say to you, did he?"

"He did," I acknowledged.

"Well, they're good guys. Both of 'em."

"Yes. They are."

Another moment of silence, and I said, "Well, I better go. Bye."

"Bye, Harlie. You take care."

"You, too."

As I pulled onto the road, and drove away, I looked once in the rearview mirror, and Eddie was still standing there, in the same spot,

watching me go. I wondered why.

7

I picked at my lunch, enough so that Hannah said, "You need to eat."

"I am," I said.

"You didn't eat much supper last night."

"I ate breakfast," I reminded her. I only meant it as a reminder. I wasn't trying to be curt or rude. But it must have sounded

that way because Crane, from across the table said, "Harlie."

His voice wasn't harsh, or sharp, but it got my attention, and when I looked at him, he raised an eyebrow at me.

I sighed. It seemed like I couldn't say anything without somebody getting onto me about it.

"Sorry," I said, to Hannah.

"I don't mean to nag you," she said.

"I know." I looked at her. "Can I finish my sandwich later? I'm just not hungry right now."

Hannah nodded, looking reluctant.

I picked up my plate, and went to put it in the refrigerator, and then went out the back door, grabbing a jacket off the

hook. Clarence was laying on the back steps, the blue blanket under his chin.

"Come with me," I told him, and he got to his feet, following me slowly across the yard to the hammock. Noone had used it for awhile,

and I brushed the leaves and twigs out of it, before I lifted Clarence up into it. Then I settled myself next to him.

I laid there for a long time, looking up at the blue in the sky, with Clarence's head on my stomach.

"What are we gonna do without him, Clarence?" I said softly.

In response, Clarence gave a sad whimper.

7

Ford came over a little while later, looking down at me with a slight grin.

"You still have my keys?" he asked me.

I shifted in the hammock, causing Clarence to groan. "Yes. Here," I said, pulling the keys out of jeans pocket and

handing them to him.

"Thanks," Ford said, jingling the keys in his hand.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"I thought I'd run in to the library. See if they have any books on Macaws."

"How come?"

"I just want to learn some more about them. Captain Jack's caught my interest."

He started off, then turned back. "Hannah wants you."

"What for?"

"I don't know. I'm just the messenger."

I sighed, and held out my hand to him. "Help me up, will you?"

Ford gave me a hand up, and I lifted Clarence to the ground.

I went in thru the back door, but the kitchen was unoccupied.

The entire house was quiet, and I passed thru the living room, going up the stairs. The door to Hannah and Adam's

bedroom was half-open, half-closed, and I tapped on it lightly.

"Is that you, Harlie?" Hannah asked.

"Yeah."

"Come in, sweetie."

I pushed the door open. Hannah was sitting up on the bed, her legs stretched out in front of her, nursing the baby.

"Ford said you wanted me."

"I just wanted to talk to you for a few minutes. Come over here and sit down with me."

I went to crawl onto the bed, onto the other side of Hannah, sitting there while she nursed Isaac, and then

burped him, patting his back gently.

She held him then, until he was sleeping, and then she laid him between us.

When he stirred a little, she offered him his pacifier.

"What do you plan on wearing tomorrow?" she asked me.

"I don't know," I said dully. "Does it matter?"

"Harlie," she said, quietly reproving. "I'm not saying it's the most important thing, no. But you want to look nice. I

was thinking your black skirt and that white blouse with the lacy sleeves would be good."

I shrugged. "I guess so."

"Go look for them, then. I think they're in the back of our closet."

Since my room is so small, and doesn't have a closet, I keep my dress clothes in Adam and Hannah's closet.

I got up and obediently went to the big walk-in closet, shuffling thru to the back, where most of my church clothes

are hanging. I found the skirt, and the blouse Hannah was talking about, and pulled them out impatiently.

I laid them on the bed, and Hannah picked them up. "The skirt looks alright, but the lace has a small tear right here."

"I'll wear something else, then."

"I can fix it. Hand me my sewing basket, and I'll mend it."

I went to get the sewing basket off the top of the bookshelf and handed it to her.

"Can you put Isaac in his crib?" she asked me, and I lifted the baby, carefully laying him in his crib in the corner of the room,

and covered his legs with a blanket.

"Come and sit down with me," she said, threading a needle and beginning to mend the lace on the sleeve.

I went to sit beside her again.

"School starts back next week, hmm?" she said.

"Unfortunately."

"You like school. Why are you talking that way?"

"I just don't want to think about it. It's going to be hard to concentrate."

"You've heard me talk about my grandfather," Hannah said, abruptly changing the subject.

"Yeah."

"He was pretty special to me. Since my dad wasn't around, he filled a place for me. I was around your age when

he died."

I nodded, wondering where Hannah was going with this conversation.

"We used to spend a lot of time together, going out to this spot where a pair of eagles had a nest. We'd sit there for hours,

looking thru binoculars, and watching. Those are some of my most treasured memories."

"We didn't have much money when he died, so his gravestone wasn't fancy, but I saved my money for awhile, and bought a ceramic eagle

that I had fastened onto the stone with wires," Hannah continued.

"That was nice," I said.

"It was something to sort of commemorate our time together," she said.

"It's a good idea," I agreed.

"It helped me, somehow, knowing the eagle was there. I don't know why, exactly, but it did. I thought it might be something

you'd want to consider."

"Oh. You mean, for Doc G?"

"Yes. It's just a suggestion."

I leaned against Hannah's shoulder, and we talked about other things for awhile. It was cozy, and peaceful, sitting there with her,

and Isaac nearby, sleeping. That was how Adam found us, when he came in, sitting there together.

7


	38. Star Gazing

Later that afternoon, Evan and Crane, Brian and Adam, all went over to help a neighbor load some cattle. It had been talked about, and

decided that the majority of us were going into Angels Camp to eat pizza later that night. I'd thought about it, and decided it might

help me to go along. I hoped it would help to take my mind off of tomorrow. I didn't expect that I would get much, if any, sleep that night.

Besides, I thought that if the truth was known, my brothers had put their heads together and planned the pizza night out for my benefit.

They would all be knowing how I was feeling.

As I was walking thru the living room, Hannah told me to go get my skirt off of her bed so that I could get it ironed.

"It's alright," I said.

"Harlie, it's wrinkled."

"It's not that bad."

"It is that bad. You can't wear it that way," she protested.

I shrugged, and she said impatiently, "Go on and get it. I'll do it for you."

I went upstairs, grabbed the skirt and my hairbrush and went back down, handing the skirt to Hannah, where she was setting up the ironing board,

in the corner of the living room.

I went to flop down on the couch beside Guthrie, where he was watching television.

"What's on?" I asked him, and he blew a big bubble from his gum, and said, without looking up,

"Fall Guy."

Daniel, sitting on the opposite side in the old brown rocker, his foot crossed and resting on his other knee, had been busy

scribbling on a piece of paper. Probably song lyrics.

I looked up to see him scrutinizing me, with his forehead all wrinkled.

When he didn't look away, I said, "What's wrong?"

"I'm just wondering why Hannah's ironing your dress."

"Skirt," I corrected him.

"What?"

"It's a skirt. Not a dress."

"Skirt, then. Why is she ironing it?" he asked.

"Um, because it's wrinkled?" I said, sassy.

Daniel frowned at me, obviously not amused.

"Don't be a smartass. You know what I mean. Why aren't you doin' it yourself?"

I stared at him. "Hannah doesn't mind."

"I didn't ask if she minded."

I was startled. He was practically fuming. What the heck?

I turned and looked over the back of the couch towards Hannah. "Do you want me to do it?" I asked, raising my voice so she could

hear me.

"I'm nearly finished now," she said. "I'll go ahead and do up some more that needs done while the ironing board's set up."

I turned back around and looked at Daniel, shrugging, as if to say, 'see what I mean'?

Daniel made a huffing sound, and went back to scribbling on the notebook paper he held.

I regarded him curiously at first, and began brushing my hair, working thru the tangles that had accumulated.

After the episode of The Fall Guy was over, Guthrie got up and ambled towards the kitchen. Hannah had finished her ironing

and stored the ironing board back in the cupboard where we keep the vacuum cleaner and other stuff.

She followed Guthrie to the kitchen, which left Daniel and I alone. I looked his direction again. He was immersed in

his writing.

I got up and turned off the television, and then sat back down again, pulling my hair over my shoulder and starting to

braid it.

When several minutes went by without any comment, or even a look in my direction from Daniel, I ventured into the

silence. "How come you're mad at me?"

Daniel went on with his writing, and didn't bother to look up. "Don't worry about it," he said curtly.

I thought about getting up and flouncing off, like people do in the movies. But I didn't think it would impress Daniel, or

affect him, either way. He most likely wouldn't take any notice at all, if I did.

So, I sat there, watching him covertly, still brushing the end of my braid. I started feeling weepy and

emotional.

"I don't know what I did to piss you off," I said, feeling sorry for myself. As if I didn't have enough to deal with, Daniel had to

start acting like a jerk to me.

"You don't, huh?" he asked, his voice clipped.

"No. I don't. The least you could do if you're mad at a person is to tell them why!"

Daniel laid his pen down on the table with a snap, and finally looked up at me. "Okay. You've got it. Where do you

get off treatin' Hannah like a maid?"

I was honestly confused. "I don't treat her like a maid," I denied.

"Yeah? Then why was she doin' something like ironing your skirt, when she's got a thousand other things she'd probably

rather be doin'?"

I blinked at him, trying to wrap my mind around what he was saying to me, and formulate a defense of myself.

And just like that, I knew that Daniel was right. Hannah was busy enough. She shouldn't have to do anything extra

for me, just because I was feeling so low. I was more than capable of doing my own ironing.

I knew I was going to cry. And I was determined to do it in private.

I got to my feet, and ran up the stairs to my bedroom, slamming the door. I laid on my

bed for a long time, crying. It seemed like that was all I felt like doing lately. I got up long enough to grab a handful

of Kleenex from the desk, and then went to lay back down, wiping at my face with them, and facing the wall.

I was still laying that way, on my side, one arm stretched out so I could rest my cheek on it, when there was a rapping on

my door.

I hoped it was Guthrie. I didn't feel like talking to anyone else.

When I didn't answer, there was another knock.

"Can I come in?"

Daniel.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Daniel was at the top of the list of people I didn't feel like talking to.

I heard the door open, and then shut. He sat down on the bed beside me. I kept my eyes closed, and tried to make

my breathing sound steady, like I was sleeping.

I heard him sigh heavily. "Pretending to be asleep? What are you, five years old?"

Well, that made me mad. But, it had really been a dumb thing to do. I should have known he wouldn't fall for it.

So I opened my eyes, and pushed my hair out of my face. But I didn't answer, or look at him, either.

"You still gonna go eat pizza with everybody?" he asked.

I lifted my shoulders in a shrug and didn't answer.

"So I get the silent treatment now, huh?" he asked me then.

After another couple moments of silence, he sighed again. "Okay. Fine. Have it your way." I heard the bed squeak

as he got to his feet. "But, hey, before I go, you left this downstairs." And then he gave me a whack on

the seat of my jeans with my hairbrush.

I gasped at the sudden sting, and turned over fast. My face, I knew, was beet red. I could feel it.

"That hurt, Daniel!"

"Yeah? Well, I must have done it right, then." He stuck his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.

I stared at him, still shocked.

"So, we're goin' to be headin' out soon to the pizza place. If you're goin', you'd better get yourself together."

He went out then, shutting the door quietly behind him. After a few minutes of still feeling in shock by Daniel's attitude and

actions, I sat up, gathering up all the Kleenexes, and then getting up to drop them in the trash can by the desk. I went to pick up

my brush off the bed where Daniel had left it, and put it back on my nightstand. I rubbed at the spot he'd whacked. It

was still stinging.

I tucked my shirt into my jeans, and picked up my boots, going downstairs.

The guys had gotten home from the neighbor's house, and the house was alive with noise and activity. Nancy was there, too,

in the midst of the chaos.

"Hey, wild child," she greeted me.

"Hi."

"You ready to go eat some pizza?" she asked me.

"Yeah. I guess." I turned to look at Hannah.

"Are you and Adam coming?" I asked her.

"Well, Adam and I aren't, and I don't think Brian and Clare are, either, but you should go along with everybody. It will be good

for you," Hannah said.

"Yeah, shortcake, come on," Evan said, giving my braid a tug.

I could see Ford and Guthrie pulling on their jackets, and then Ford went with Crane as he left to go pick Lila up.

Evan was asking Daniel if he was riding with him and Nancy, or with Guthrie, who was going to pick Kristin up, before meeting up

with everybody.

It was decided that Daniel would go with Guthrie, which left me the choice of being the third person in Evan's truck, or the third one in Guthrie's

to Kristin's house, after which I'd have to sit on Daniel's lap. That choice did not appeal to me, so I opted for Evan and Nancy.

On the way to the pizza parlor in Angels Camp, Nancy kept up a steady stream of conversation, trying to draw me into it.

When we got to the pizza place, we went on in, where Evan told them we'd need a table for nine. We ordered drinks, and I told

the waitress I wanted a Coke. Diabetes be hanged.

Crane and Ford arrived first, accompanied by Lila. What I knew of Lila, I liked. I could see why Crane was interested in her. She

was attractive, and seemed really nice, though she was very quiet.

By the time Guthrie and Daniel and Kristin got there, we'd already ordered several pizzas with a variety of toppings.

I stood up to greet Kristin with a hug. It seemed like forever since I'd seen her.

"I'm sorry I haven't been there for you," she said. "I know it's been a horrible week for you."

"It's alright."

"I got another job here in Angel's Camp at the movie rental store," she said quietly. She leaned closer to me and said, "I've

got to help Mom with the bills. Frank's been gone for over a week, and we need the money."

We had a whispered conversation about Frank, and the possibilities of where he might have gone, or if he'd be back.

"How's your mom handling it?" I asked.

"Surprisingly well," Kristin said.

A sudden happy thought occurred to me then. "Are you not going to San Francisco then?" I asked her.

"It doesn't look like we will be," she said, and I gave her arm a squeeze.

"That's great news," I told her. "Guthrie didn't tell me."

"I told him to wait to say anything. I knew you had enough to think about, and I wanted to make sure Mom wouldn't

weaken and take Frank back. But I think she's actually strong enough now to refuse him if he does come around."

The thought of Kristin staying was a very reassuring thing for me.

"This way I'll be around so we can make a plan for me to hogtie Guthrie one of these days, and we'll be sisters for real," she whispered to me.

I smiled at her. "Count me in on that plan," I told her.

7

I didn't eat that much. I finished one piece of pizza, but halfway thru the second piece, I pushed my plate away.

I looked around the table. Everybody was talking together, and laughing. I wished I felt like laughing. I wondered if I would

ever feel like laughing again.

So far this evening, I had studiously managed to avoid Daniel. It felt weird to me to be on the outs with Daniel. Next to Guthrie, Daniel

has always been my go-to guy, my simpatico. I didn't like the tension between us. It made me feel even sadder.

When the pizzas had been done away with, and the two pitchers of beer were gone, we all stood around outside in a big

circle, talking. It was decided that we would all go back to the house, and play some card games, or listen to Daniel and Crane play some

music. Except for Kristin, who needed Guthrie to drop her off at the video store to work. I managed to again wrangle a ride with Evan

and Nancy.

I was lost in my own thoughts. I remembered at my birthday, when Clare had given me the handmade wooden frame that

someone she knew had made. I planned to ask her about an idea that I had.

When we got home, we found Hannah and Adam, Clare and Brian, already involved in a game of Uno.

"How was the pizza?" Adam asked, of everybody in general.

"Great. You guys missed out," Ford informed them.

Another deck of Uno was brought out, and Evan and Ford went to find another card table. I shook my head when

Ford told me to sit down and play.

"No, thanks," I said. "I'll just watch."

"Then I'll watch, too," Nancy said, flopping down beside me on the couch. Not for the first time, I thought how

great a person that she was. After a half-hour of watching the Uno games, Nancy's eyes landed upon some of the photo albums

on the bookshelves.

"Are those old photo albums?" she asked me.

"Yeah. The ones in the albums are the ones my mom did when the boys were all little."

"Are there some pictures of Evan?" she asked, looking hopeful.

"Only about ten million," I told her, with dry humor.

"Could I look at them?" she asked, and I obligingly went over to pull them off the shelves and laid them in her lap.

"Be sure to show her the ones of Evan in his diaper," Brian volunteered.

Nancy giggled. "That I would like to see," she said, as Evan glowered at Brian.

As the evening wound down to a close, Crane left to take Lila home, and Nancy got around to leave as well.

"I'll be there tomorrow," she told me.

I nodded. "Okay."

"Evan said he's going to stick close. Your brothers have your back," she reassured me.

I knew that to be the truth, for sure. I nodded, and said, "I know they do."

I went up to get into my pajamas, and then padded back downstairs barefooted to do my shot.

The kitchen was still full of McFaddens. Guthrie was perched on the kitchen counter, eating cookies, and

drinking a glass of milk. Adam and Ford were sitting at the table, Adam drinking his standard cup of coffee. Daniel was leaning

against the opposite counter, listening to their conversation, and munching on an apple. I went to stand near Guthrie.

"Kristin told me the good news," I said.

"Yeah. It's great, isn't it?"

"Are you staying in my room tonight?" I asked.

"If you want me to."

"Yeah. I want you to."

Guthrie nodded, and tossed back the last of his milk, hopping off the counter. "Gonna grab a shower," he announced,

to no one in particular.

Ford and Adam were talking about Ford's college classes for the upcoming semester. I risked a look at Daniel, and

he must have sensed it, because he turned to look at me at almost the same moment.

"Hey," I said quietly, somberly.

"Hey," Daniel answered, just as somberly.

There was an awkward moment then, with us just looking at one another and neither one of us saying anything.

"I was thinkin' about doin' a little star gazing," he said. "Want to sit with me while I do?"

A feeling of relief that was nearly tangible washed over me. Daniel was bridging the chasm between us.

All I said, though, was, "Yes. Sure."

Daniel led the way, and I followed behind, past Adam and Ford, out of the kitchen and thru the living room, to the front porch.

He went out, held the door for me, and then let it slam shut. Daniel went to sit down in the porch swing.

When I hesitated, he gestured to the spot beside him on the swing. "Best seat in the house right here," he said.

I went to sit down beside him, and he gave the swing a push with the toe of his boot to start it swinging.

We swayed in gentle motion for a few minutes, both of us gazing at the sky.

"The sky sure is lit up tonight, isn't it?" Daniel said.

"Yeah. It's beautiful." I realized what I'd said, and I added, "That's the first time I've thought about anything being beautiful since

I heard about-what happened to Doc G."

Daniel was silent, and I gathered my courage, and discarded my pride.

"I guess I was pretty thoughtless about Hannah today." I continued. "I don't want to take advantage of her. I love her

too much for that."

When Daniel didn't say anything, I turned to look at him in the darkness, with only the light coming from the living room

window on his face.

"I shouldn't have ignored you when you were trying to talk to me," I admitted.

"Nope. You shouldn't have," Daniel said, but there was no malice in his voice.

"I feel like I'm going crazy, Daniel," I said, almost in a whisper. "I really miss Doc G."

In response, Daniel reached over and took my hand in his, holding it tightly. "I know you miss him," he said, and then

added, "But you're gonna be alright."

"How do you know for sure?" I asked, still in a near whisper.

"Because," he said simply, his voice firm. "I say you will be."

7


	39. The woman in yellow

It was late when I finally went up to bed, and Guthrie was already encased in his sleeping bag on the floor of my bedroom.

I stepped over him, but he made no movement, even when I accidently bumped him with my foot. He was totally out. I turned off the

lamp, and eased my way back to my bed in the darkness, trying not to trip over Guthrie.

I laid awake until the early morning hours, when I finally fell asleep.

When I woke up, it was because I heard Guthrie rustling around. I couldn't have been in a very deep sleep, I thought of the

day ahead, and winced a little. I didn't know if I could face it.

I sat up to see him on his knees, rolling up his sleeping bag.

"Mornin'," he said.

"Morning."

As Guthrie stood up, and put his rolled up bag against the wall, he looked down at me.

"Want to go for a ride after breakfast?" he asked.

"That sounds good," I said, trying to swallow past my pain.

With a take-charge manner that reminded me again of Adam, Guthrie said, "I'm not gonna leave you today, Har. I'll stay

beside you. Now get dressed. We'll eat and then go riding."

I still sat there, feeling almost paralyzed. Maybe if I didn't move, it wouldn't be true. Maybe if I didn't move, I wouldn't

shatter.

Guthrie put his hands on his hips. Again, a younger version of Adam. "Come on. Move," he ordered, though not unkindly.

"Okay," I said, and got to my feet.

True to his word, Guthrie was waiting in the hall when I came out, dressed for riding in jeans and a t-shirt, and boots.

At breakfast, everybody made an attempt to behave as normal. I ate my eggs as if I was a robot.

When I pushed my plate back, still half of my breakfast uneaten, Hannah gave me a worried look.

"Eat some more," she encouraged.

"It tastes like chalk."

"Hey-" Evan protested, from across the table. "Don't insult the cook. I made darn good eggs."

"I didn't mean anything," I tried to explain. "Nothing would taste good."

"You should eat now," Hannah insisted, "if case you don't feel like eating lunch-"

As her voice trailed off, and I met her eyes, I saw the helplessness in them. Hannah is a fixer. I knew she was struggling with

how to help me.

I obediently pulled my plate back close, and took a few more bites of my eggs and toast. I finished my milk,

"Finished?" Guthrie asked, giving me a nudge in the ribs.

I nodded, and he stood up, pushing in his chair.

"We're goin' riding," he announced, to everybody in general.

Adam didn't look disapproving. He gave a nod, as if he thought it a good idea. "Where to?" he asked.

I got to my feet, too, looking at Guthrie. Where we went didn't matter to me.

"I was thinkin' to the west pasture," Guthrie said.

Adam nodded.

I followed Guthrie out of the kitchen, and we stopped to put on jackets, and as we were shrugging into them, Adam came out

to the living room, holding his cup of coffee.

"Be sure you're back by eleven or so," he said. "So you can wash up and get changed."

I didn't answer, but Guthrie said, "Okay. We will be."

We went out, and saddled Petra and Geranimo in near silence. Once we were thru the gates, Guthrie turned to me.

"Ready?" he asked, and I knew what he meant.

"Yeah," I said, and we gave the horses their heads,

We galloped all the way to the Oak tree where the treehouse we played in as kids is at.

When we reined to a stop, we sat there a few minutes.

"I was thinkin'. We should fix up the treehouse for Scooter," Guthrie said.

"I don't think he's quite ready for climbing treehouses," I said dryly.

"He will be, before you know it."

I shrugged, and Guthrie said, "Well, we had a lot of fun here, didn't we?"

"Sure. We did. A lot of fun."

"Well, we want him to have the same kind of fun, right?"

I nodded.

"Besides, there'll be more kids, probably. Besides Isaac, I mean," Guthrie added.

I thought about that for a moment. "I hope so. That would be fun. Maybe Hannah will have a girl next time."

"Maybe. But I meant Brian and Clare. They might have a kid soon. And the way things are lookin' with

Evan and Nancy, they might be gettin' married sometime."

I leaned forward in my saddle a little. "You think Evan's that serious?" I asked.

"Yeah. I've never seen him act like this about a girl before."

"Well, I think that would be great," I said. "I like Nancy a lot."

"Yeah. She seems like a nice girl," Guthrie agreed.

We started our horses going again, and walking them this time, we were both quiet for awhile.

A sudden, horrible thought occurred to me. "Guth?"

"What?"

"I don't want things to change."

"What things?"

"Things here. With the family. I want it to stay like it is," I said.

"Well," he said, consideringly, "Things can't really stay the same, ever. I mean, if they did, Hannah wouldn't have come. And

Brian and Clare wouldn't have gotten married. And we wouldn't have Scooter, either, if things just stayed the same."

"I don't mean that. I want Hannah and Clare and the baby. And even Nancy, too. But that's all."

"That's crazy. If you like those changes to the family, then why do you think you won't like other changes, too?" Guthrie asked.

"Well," I said, hesitating, trying to find the words for what I wanted to say. "That's right. What I mean, I guess, is

that I don't want you and me to change."

"We have to get older, Har. Nothin's goin' to stop that."

"I don't mean that. I mean change with us, the way we are together."

"Why would that change?" Guthrie asked, looking at me, puzzled.

"Well, what if you go away to college, and you don't come back to the ranch? You might decide to live somewhere else, or

something."

"There's no chance of me not stayin' here," Guthrie said. He gave me a raised eyebrow look. "Unless you're plannin' on

not staying here?"

"No! I mean, I'm going to stay here."

"Okay, then," Guthrie said, shrugging off my concern. "We'll both stay here until we're the oldest ranchers in the valley."

I gave him a half-smile for his silliness. "That will be good. We can chase the cows in our wheelchairs."

"And I'll still be able to beat you then," he said, with brotherly superiority.

"Probably so." I hesitated again, and then said, "Will there be anything, ever, that makes us not be like we are? That

makes us not get along? Not be close?"

Guthrie reined Geranimo to a stop. "Why are you talkin' like this, Har?"

I pulled Petra to a halt. "I'm just thinking. I don't want things to change between us. It scares me. I don't think-that I could

be alright. If you were ever against me, and not for me."

"If you spend one more second thinkin' about that, you're wasting your time," Guthrie said. "We might not always agree on stuff. But

there's nothin' that can change you and me."

Sudden, stupid, traitorous tears welled up in my eyes. "Promise?"

"I promise," Guthrie said, and the look in his eyes made me believe his words.

"Okay," I said.

Guthrie, looking like he'd rather be talking about something else, gave me another look.

"Race you to the creek?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, and gave myself up to the ride.

7

Guthrie doesn't wear a watch, so I don't know how he did it, but he made certain we were back by eleven. He went upstairs

to get into the shower. Hannah told me I could use her bathtub, so I went, reluctantly, to take a bath and get ready.

When I came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, Hannah was sitting on the bed, where she'd laid out my skirt and blouse.

She was already dressed for the funeral, in her black dress.

"Are you taking Isaac?" I asked.

"No. Clare said she will stay with him."

I realized that made sense, because Clare really hadn't known Doc G all that well. Hannah would want to go, of course, and dragging

Isaac out to a funeral wasn't the best idea.

I rubbed myself dry with the towel, and stepped into my skirt, adjusting it, and then putting on my blouse and starting to button

it up.

"The buttons are crooked," Hannah told me, and stood up, taking over the buttoning from my shaky hands.

"Thanks," I said.

When she'd finished, I tucked my blouse into my skirt, and Hannah went to pick up her hairbrush from the dresser.

"Sit down," she told me, and when I had, she began to brush my hair out.

I was silent while she worked thru the tangles, and brought the curls under control.

There was a tap on the door.

"Everybody decent?" Adam asked.

"You can come in," Hannah told him, as she began to do my hair in a French braid.

Adam, too, was dressed in his good clothes. He stood there, with his suit jacket open, and his tie not yet tied.

"All finished," Hannah said, and went to put the brush back on the dresser. She went then to stand in front of Adam, tying

his tie.

"I never could get the hang of tying one of these," Adam said.

Guthrie appeared in the open bedroom doorway. He was wearing black jeans and a maroon dress shirt, with a black tie.

"Who did your tie for you?" Adam asked him.

"Crane."

I got up and went to stand beside Guthrie.

"Why don't you two ride with Hannah and I?" Adam said, and I knew that was so he could keep an eye on me, and be there if

I fell to pieces.

"I thought I'd drive," Guthrie said. "Ford said he'd ride with Har and me."

Adam surveyed both of us, looking uncertain. "Are you sure, Guthrie?"

"Yeah," Guthrie said. "I'll take good care of her, Adam." His voice was steady and clear.

Adam came to stand in front of us. He put a hand on the back of Guthrie's neck, and his eyes glistened with tears. The times that I've

seen Adam emotional enough to have tears in his eyes are few and far between in my life. I realized then, for the first time, that Adam, and

Brian, and the rest of the family, too, would be hurting over the loss of Doc G. I wasn't the only one in the family affected

by his death. But when Adam spoke up, I didn't know then if he was emotional because of Doc G, or because of what he was feeling for Guthrie. And for me.

"I know you will," he said, to Guthrie. "You're a good man."

I could feel Guthrie straighten a little beside me, and when I looked at him, he, too, had tears in his eyes.

"I had a good man to learn from," Guthrie said.

Adam pulled Guthrie in tight for a hug, and then gently touched my cheek with his hand.

"Alright," he said, recovering his customary self-control, "We'll meet you all there."

Guthrie nodded, and gave me a gentle push. We went down the stairs, to the living room, where there were brothers in various stages of dress.

Isaac was fussing in his bassinet, while Clare was trying to help the guys get ready to go.

Guthrie put on his jacket, and handed me mine. "Ready, Ford?" he asked, and Ford nodded. The three of us went down the

front steps, and climbed into Guthrie's truck.

Guthrie stopped at the Dari Kurl, and he and Ford got Cokes. When he asked me, I told him I'd take a lemonade. I knew he and Ford

were trying to pass the time, and get to the services just before it began.

On the main street, leading to the church, we all three were stunned by the number of vehicles parked, lining the street.

"Wow," Ford said.

I don't know why I, or the boys either, were surprised. Doc G, being a long-time resident of the area, and very well thought of,

was bound to have a large turnout at his funeral.

"Holy smokes," Guthrie said, as he tried in vain to find a place to park. We finally parked a street over, and walked back to the

church. Crane was standing on the church steps, obviously waiting for us. People kept going around him, heading inside.

"Where have you kids been?" Crane asked, ushering us inside. It was one of those questions that is asked without really expecting

an answer.

Guthrie, however, said quietly, in explanation, "I didn't think about it being this crowded. It's still early-"

"Never mind," Crane said, and pointed us to the direction of where the rest of the family was seated. There wasn't enough room for

us to all sit together, but Crane had managed to maintain five seats together, and Daniel was at the end of the row.

"Finally," he said, under his breath. "I couldn't have kept these much longer. Sit down, quick."

I squeezed past Daniel's knees, where I planned to sit in the first chair that I came to. However, I found myself being

more or less placed in the center of the five seats, Daniel and Crane on my left, and Ford and Guthrie on my right.

The church was so full that everywhere I looked I saw somebody that I knew. Intermingled with those, there were plenty of

people that I didn't know, too. A couple of rows ahead, I saw Adam and Hannah, Brian, and Evan and Nancy sitting. Even in a crowd

this size, it would be next to impossible to miss Evan's red hair, sticking out amongst the brown and blonde haired.

I swallowed hard, and looked to the front of the church, toward where the casket was. I couldn't really see much of Doc G's

face, and that, at that moment, was alright with me. Someone was playing the organ,. I couldn't see who it was, though I thought

it was probably Beatrice Dotts. She's the usual organ player for funerals and weddings at our church.

I saw that Daniel and Crane both held one of the papers that are passed out at funerals, with the birthdate and death date, and

with the short obituary on it. I studiously kept my eyes from straying to it.

Pastor Johnson stepped up to the pulpit, and the organ music ceased playing.

I can't remember word for word what was said in the next forty-plus minutes. My thoughts faded in and out. I remember

certain things. Like the pastor saying how Doc G had devoted his life to animals, to caring for them, and saving them. And how

he didn't neglect his friends, either, but always strived to be there to assist someone who needed a helping hand.

I let my thoughts fade away again.

'I don't know what I'd do without you, lass'

"That's no lunch for a working girl'

"Well, Harlie Mac, what do you think? Ready to get this day started?'

"You're likely to blow away in a strong wind, lass'

'I'm always glad to have a chance to visit with you'

'Are you put out with me then, lass?'

I was startled out of my reviere by Crane's arm around my shoulders, and his voice close to my ear, whispering,

"Alright?"

I was heartsick, and shaky, and I wished I was anywhere at all but where I was.

But I nodded my head, and whispered back, "Yes."

Crane wasn't fooled, I knew, because his arm tightened around me. But, to his credit, he didn't call me a liar.

7

When it was finished, and people began to file out into the aisles, heading toward the front where the coffin was, Guthrie \

leaned down and said, "Are you goin' up?"

I knew that I should do what others were doing, and walk up, and pause to look at Doc G's face one more time, but

I didn't want to. I shook my head at Guthrie and he nodded.

In the aftermath of the service, it was crowded getting out of the church. Guthrie took my hand, and I followed behind,

content to let him lead me. We were separated from Crane and Daniel, and when we got back to the truck, Guthrie

looked at me and asked if I wanted to go to the graveside services at the cemetery at the edge of town.

I looked from him to Ford. "What do you guys think?" I asked.

"We'll do whatever you want to do," Ford told me.

"If you want to go home, then we'll go home," Guthrie added.

I considered, and then said, "No. I'll see it thru. Let's go to the cemetery."

So Guthrie got in the long line of cars and trucks, all with their lights on, and the procession went thru the middle of town

slowly. When we passed by the vet office, I turned my face into Ford's shoulder.

At the cemetery, I climbed out after Guthrie, and we walked up to the tent that was set up. Ford took my hand, and pulled

me along until we were standing beside Hannah and Evan and Nancy. Crane and Daniel came up behind us to stand.

"Where's Adam and Brian?" I asked Ford.

"They're pall bearers," Ford told me.

I hadn't known that, but there they were, the two of them standing straight, their hands clasped in front of them, their expressions stoic, beside

several other men from the community. I felt disengaged, somehow. I'd really been out of it, if I hadn't even known that Adam

and Brian were going to be pallbearers for Doc G.

There was more talking now, by Pastor Johnson, and then seven men, dressed in army fatigues, stepped up, lifted rifles to their

shoulders, and fired. Once. Twice. Three times. The 21 gun salute. I'd heard of them, but never actually seen one take place. I

hadn't known Doc G had been in the army. I felt a rush of emotion then. There were so many things about him that I

didn't know. Had I even really known him, at all?

At the first volley of shots, I jerked, startled. At the second, I flinched. At the third, I squeezed my eyes shut tightly.

And then, out of the fringes of the people in rows surrounding the tent, a woman stepped forward. She was a beautiful woman,

not dressed in black, as usual for a funeral, but in a dress of vivid yellow. As she began to sing, I recognized her.

Irene Sampell. The 1950's GRA barrel racing champion. The hospitable woman who'd bought Coke when she knew I was coming

because she thought I'd like it. Irene, of the monstrous house full of antiques. Irene. Doc G's friend.

And then she began to sing, accompanied on guitar by a man I didn't know.

The music was haunting. The lyrics unfamiliar to me. Her voice seemed to rise above the people. Her voice, it gave me chills

up my back.

"Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling

From glen to glen, and down the mountainside

The summer's gone, and all the roses falling

'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide

But come you back when summer's in the meadow

Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow

'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow

Oh Danny boy, Oh Danny boy, I love you so

But when he come and all the flowers are dying

If I'm dead, as dead I may well be

You'll come and find the place where I am lying,

And kneel and say an "Ave" there for me

And I shall hear, tho soft you tread above me

And all my grave will warm and sweeter be

For you will bend and tell me that you love me

And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me"

7

Due to frigid temperatures and lack of substitute work, lots of writing going on! So, loyal reviewers and readers,

two chapters in one week.

To the Guest who asked that I might write about Harlie's earlier years, I will think about that. I have also

considered writing a "future" one sometime.

Hope two chapters in one week isn't too many!


	40. Trusted enough to love

Listening to the song, and the sadness of the tune and the lyrics, I realized that it was a song about Ireland. I looked to my left, where

Daniel was tight to my side. To my right was Guthrie. I didn't need to turn around to know that Ford, Crane and Evan were close behind me, kind of in a semi-circle. Even at that moment, I realized that they had buttoned me up, under their protection. The Brotherhood, I thought, just before I touched Daniel's sleeve.

There were spots in front of my eyes, and I felt warm suddenly. Really warm. I felt as though, without a doubt, that I was going to pass out.

"Daniel-" I said, in a whisper.

One look at my face must have been quite telling, because Daniel put an arm quickly around my waist to support me.

Without a word Daniel's arm tightened, and he turned and walked me out thru the crowd towards the street where all the

cars were parked. Guthrie was at my other elbow, and before I quite realized it, Daniel had lifted me into the seat of Evan's truck, which must have been the first one of ours that he came to.

"Put your head down," Daniel said, and proceeded to help me do just that, with a hand at the back of my head.

"I'll get some water," Guthrie said, and I heard him go around to the other side of the truck and open the door, and then the sounds of water being poured.

After a few minutes had passed, Daniel said, "Try sitting up. Real slow, now."

I raised my head and then sat up slowly, leaning back against the truck seat.

Guthrie handed me the cup off the top of the thermos, filled with water.

I took a drink of it, and then sloshed most of it all over my skirt.

"Bat shit," I mumbled, as Guthrie took the cup from me.

I looked at both of their worried faces, and just past them, I saw Ford weaving thru the crowd and coming across

the cemetery towards us.

"It's over, it looks like," Guthrie said. I knew he meant the funeral, but I thought how much more was over than just that.

Doc G was dead. His life was over. My time with him was over.

"Better?" Daniel asked me, leaning down a little to look into my face.

"Yes, Daniel."

Ford was there now, too, and Daniel stepped away from the truck to talk to him.

Guthrie's sweet, freckled face was lined with worry. I couldn't stand it. I reached out to tug on one of his ears.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"You've got nothin' to be sorry about,"

"I'm so embarrassed. It just felt like I was going to pass out-"

"You were goin' to. You were as white as a sheet. It's no wonder, with how close people were packed in there

together," Guthrie said. "Here. Take another drink."

I didn't want another drink of water. But I wanted him to stop looking like that. So I obediently took the cup from him, and drank what was left.

"I shamed Doc G, Guthrie," I said, so softly that I wasn't sure he would hear me.

"Bullshit. You did not," Guthrie denied, his voice gruff.

"I wanted to make it all the way thru, though," I said.

"You did make it thru. The song was the end."

"Okay," I said. I'd done it, then. I'd made it thru the services. Crane, Hannah, Evan and Nancy were walking our way now.

I was asked again, by Crane and then Hannah, if I was alright. I nodded, not wanting to go into any details.

"Are you all heading home?" Hannah asked, in a general way of Guthrie, Ford, Daniel and I, and then turned to include Evan and Nancy in her question.

The boys all said that yes, they were.

"I'll be staying for the dinner at the church with Adam and Brian," Hannah said. "And then helping to clean up afterwards. We'll see you at home."

Crane said that he was staying for the dinner, too, and he and Hannah walked back towards the tent to meet up with Adam and Brian.

Hannah turned back long enough to tell me to eat something as soon as I got home.

I nodded, which apparently didn't satisfy her, because she said, "Boys, make sure she eats something."

I rode home with Guthrie and Ford, and Daniel hitched a ride with Evan and Nancy. As we were driving thru Murphys, Guthrie said, "How about goin' for pizza?"

"We had pizza last night," Ford said.

"You can never have too much pizza," Guthrie insisted. "Evan's right behind me. I'll pull over."

And pull over, he did, jumping out and going back to talk to the others, who had stopped behind us.

"You want to eat pizza?" Ford asked me.

"I don't care," I said, and I didn't. I didn't realize I was twisting the hem of my blouse into nervous knots until Ford reached over to pull my hand loose.

Guthrie came back, jumping into the driver's seat again.

"So what are we doing?" Ford asked him.

"Daniel says we can make homemade pizzas."

I sighed. Inside, I was relieved. I didn't feel like going out somewhere where a lot of people would be.

We drove home then, the rest of the ride accomplished mostly in silence. At the house we all went inside, to find Clare sitting on the couch, feeding Isaac a bottle.

The boys told her the plans for supper, and Clare nodded, saying that homemade pizza sounded good. I went upstairs without saying anything much and went to my bedroom, shutting the door, and kicked off my black flat dress shoes, and then stripped off my skirt and pantyhose. The house was warm enough, so I pulled on a pair of raggedy shorts. I was pulling off the lace blouse and opening my dresser to sort thru t-shirts, when there was a light tapping on my door.

Ah. A brother, coming to check on me. But which one?

"Harlie, it's me," came a voice. But female.

I tugged a Smoky and the Bandit t-shirt on, and said, "Come in."

Nancy came in, closing the door behind her.

"The guys are rounding up all the ingredients to make pizza," she said, going over to sit on my bed.

"We should have everything. Hannah's pretty good about keeping things stocked up," I said.

"Yeah, but even if they find everything, can they really make it? The crust and everything, I mean?" Nancy sounded doubtful.

"Sure."

"Wow," Nancy said, looking suitably impressed. "I'm amazed. My dad and brother can't even fry an egg."

I pulled my t-shirt down further in the back. "All the boys can cook at least a little. Some better than others."

"Who's the best at cooking?" Nancy asked, obviously interested.

I leaned down to pick up my skirt and blouse off of the floor. "Crane's the best. He can make complete meals, like

lasagna with garlic bread. Daniel likes to experiment with things. Ford and Guthrie are more basic. They don't really like

to cook, but they can if they have to. Evan's more a breakfast type. He makes pancakes and bacon and eggs even if

it's not breakfast time."

"What about Brian? And Adam?"

"Adam can cook almost anything, but he doesn't like to. Brian likes to make chili or hamburger stew, stuff like that. He

puts hot sauce in pretty much everything he makes."

Nancy laughed. I threw my skirt and blouse on my bed and, for the first time today, observed what she was wearing.

A navy blue dress that was cinched at the waist with a silver belt. She looked really pretty.

When I told her that, she smiled. "Thanks, Harlie."

"You can borrow something here to wear if you want to get more comfortable. Between Clare and Hannah and me, there should be something you like."

"Oh, I'm not that picky about clothes," Nancy said, waving a hand.

"There's jeans and t-shirts in there," I said, gesturing to the dresser.

"Okay, thanks," she said, going over and pulling out a t-shirt and a pair of worn jeans.

Without embarrassment, she stripped off her dress and pulled the shirt on over her head. The jeans were a little tight on her, and much too short, since she's at least two inches taller than me.

She leaned down and began to roll up the cuffs on the jeans, making them into below the knee shorts.

She caught me watching, and shook her head. "Well," she said, "you're such a midget. If I didn't roll them up, they'd be high-water, and

I'd look like I was getting ready to wade into Sugar Creek to save somebody's truck or something."

For a moment, we were just two girls hanging out and having fun. I giggled, and gave her a playful shove, and

she pretended to lose her balance and act as if she was going to fall over.

Even though I was right back to remembering Doc G, and the giggle was a one time thing, I was appreciative of

Nancy and the fact she'd made me feel normal for a moment.

"I'm glad you're here," I told her, as we started down the stairs together.

"I'll be one of those people who comes for lunch and never leaves," she said, giving me a mischievious grin. "In time, I'd blend in and just be one of the family."

Though she was joking, I answered her in total seriousness.

"That would be good," I said.

Nancy paused at the bottom of the stairs to survey me. "You mean that, don't you?" she asked, looking pleased.

"Yeah. I do."

"Well, thanks, wild child."

Downstairs, the kitchen was a hub of activity. Even though the boys seemed a little more subdued than usual, there

was still plenty of talking and shoving around going on. Clare sat in a chair at the kitchen table, holding Isaac.

I sat down beside her, and held out my arms to take Isaac.

"Thanks," Clare said, passing the baby to me. "For such a little fellow, he gets pretty heavy after awhile."

I was still thinking about things, so I was pretty quiet, but I did enjoy being around everybody, hearing them

talking and laughing. When Isaac had fallen asleep while I was holding him, Clare took him upstairs to put him in his crib.

The pizzas were in the oven, and while they were baking, Daniel suggested we all play a card game.

"How about Monopoly?" Nancy suggested.

I knew that idea would get blown out of the water immediately, if not sooner. None of the boys like to play Monopoly.

"Yeah, okay," Daniel agreed, and Ford nodded. I looked at them in surprise, but when Evan said,

"Let's get it set up and then start playin' after we eat," that was when I was totally shocked.

I was staring at him as they all trooped out of the kitchen, toward the living room, to hunt up the Monopoly game.

"What?" he asked, catching me staring at him

"You hate to play Monopoly."

"Hate's a strong word," Evan said, giving me a half-smile, "I admit to disliking it strongly-"

I shook my head at his teasing.

"What? You don't want to play?" he asked.

I shrugged, and he rubbed his knuckles over the top of my head. "Afraid I'll kick your butt, huh?"

I pushed his hand away. "No chance of that," I said.

"Then come on. Remember, I get to be the car, though," he said, and went to the living room, just as Ford starting calling for me.

They apparently couldn't find the game. I, however, knew right where it was. It was on one of the top bookshelves, where it had been put the last time Guthrie and I had played it with Kristin. Still, though, there was a coating of dust on the top of the box.

"Right here," I said. There was a time when I would have flaunted finding it, and maybe even jokingly blew the dust off the top in one of their faces. But I didn't now. Even surrounded by brothers, I wished that the others would get home soon.

We ate our pizzas and then started playing the game. After thirty minutes into the game, Evan gave me a nudge in the ribs.

"Usually, by now you have everything bought up already," he said.

"Just giving you a break," I said, though if I'd been truthful, my mind wasn't really on the game.

"Uh huh," Evan said, disbelieving.

We'd been playing for about an hour, when the rest of the family got home. As everybody was saying hello to everybody else,

I was quiet, surveying them all. Crane began loosening his tie as he walked in, and then flopped down on one end of the couch.

Brian looked somber, and as Clare got up to greet him, he gave her a quick kiss, and stood with his arm around her waist, before announcing he was going up to change.

"Split up my money and stuff between all of you," Clare told us all, and took Brian's hand, following him upstairs.

Hannah looked wrung out, and exhausted. She asked if everybody had eaten, and then said she was going upstairs to

rest awhile. Adam's face was drawn, and he looked really tired, too. He'd already taken off his tie, and laid it beside him as he sat down on the couch opposite Crane.

Since everybody was just sitting, talking to either Adam or Crane, and not continuing with the game, Ford suggested we

see who had the most money and property, declare a winner, and call it quits. Everybody else was fine with that, as well.

Including me.

Evan and Nancy left, so he could take her home. Guthrie went to sit on the stairs to call Kristin on the phone. Daniel sat down on the couch beside Crane, and they began talking. I was still sitting in my chair at the card table, where I'd been during the Monopoly game, and I started putting the lid back on the box.

"I need a cup of coffee," Adam said. after uttering a deep sigh. He got up, shrugging out of his suit jacket as he walked

towards the kitchen.

"Come with me, sugar," he said, as he passed behind my chair.

I tagged obediently behind him to the kitchen, and leaned against the sink counter as he tossed his suit jacket on the table, and started a pot of coffee going.

"Did you all eat?" he asked me, measuring out two scoops of coffee.

"The boys made pizzas."

"That's good." He poured water in the top and switched on the coffee pot. "Have you checked your levels?"

I could have lied. Adam wouldn't have known. But I didn't. I shook my head. "No."

"Well, you need to do that, don't you?"

After I nodded, he said, "Here after a bit, you can. I want to talk to you for a few minutes first."

I wondered what he wanted to talk about. I really wasn't feeling up to a big, deep conversation.

"Okay," I said.

"Want me to make you some hot chocolate?" he asked.

I hesitated, and as I was going to say that no, and that I didn't want any, Adam said, "I'll make you a cup."

"Get the milk out for me," he said, and when I'd done that, and set the jug of milk on the counter beside the stove, he poured some into a pan and turned on the burner.

"Get yourself a cup down," he said, and I did, setting that down beside the stove, too.

Adam scooped a couple spoonfuls of the hot chocolate mix into my cup. "Enough?" he asked me.

Usually, I like my hot chocolate with a really full taste, which means three to four spoonfuls.

But I just told him that yes, it was enough.

As the coffee dripped down into the pot, and the milk heated up, Adam leaned against the counter opposite of me.

"Long day," he said, meeting my eye, and the way he said it wasn't a question, but a statement of fact.

"Yeah."

"I'm proud of you for making it thru."

"I didn't really do so well," I admitted.

"I wouldn't agree with that," he said, and then went to the stove, turning off the burner, and pouring hot milk into my

cup. "There you go," he said, and I went to get a spoon out of the silverware drawer, while Adam poured himself a cup of the finished coffee. He took his cup and went to sit down at the kitchen table. I stirred my hot chocolate, still standing, until

Adam said, "Come sit down here with me."

I went and sat in the chair beside him, and Adam scooted his chair out so that he was turned more facing me. He looked so

serious and almost stern-like that I felt a little worried.

"Did I do something wrong?" I asked.

"No. It's nothing like that." He paused, to reach out and give my knee a jiggle. "Unless you've done something you want to tell me about?" he added.

I could tell he was teasing me, and I shook my head. "No. I don't think I've done anything."

"Well, that's good." He hesitated again, and it seemed to me that he was reluctant to discuss whatever it was.

"The woman that sang today? You know her, don't you?" he finally asked me.

"Yeah. That was Irene. The lady I met awhile back." I wondered how he'd known.

"She was at the dinner today after the funeral. We got to talkin', and when she heard my name, she said she'd met

you when you were with Doc G."

"Oh." I looked at him, not sure what to say. "She's a nice lady."

"Yeah. She is." Adam took a drink of his coffee. "She's getting a room at the motel in Angels Camp for the night."

"Oh," I said again.

"She'd like to come over tomorrow mornin' before she heads home. She'd like to talk to you."

"What about?" I asked, a little startled.

"Well, some things about Doc. Things she thought you might like to know."

I wrinkled my forehead in thought. I wasn't so sure I wanted to talk to Irene. She'd been nice to me, but I didn't know if I

wanted to be in an in-depth conversation about Doc G. It was too soon, I thought.

"I don't know-" I hesitated. "Do I have to?"

"Of course not, if you don't want to. She said she'd call in the morning, and see if it was alright, and what time, and all of that."

I was quiet in thought.

"Why don't you want to talk to her?" Adam asked me.

"It's not that I don't want to, exactly. I mean, I liked her. It's just that she seemed to know Doc G really well."

Adam looked at me quizzically. "I guess my brain's tired, baby. I don't understand the problem with that."

"There's so many things I didn't know about Doc G," I tried to explain. "Like I didn't even know he'd been in the

army, until today. It just hurts. It feels like I didn't really know him at all. The way friends should know each other."

"Harlie, you know that's not true," Adam said, sounding firm. "Just because you don't know everything there is to know

about a person doesn't diminish what you can feel for 'em. Or them for you." He ran a hand thru his hair. "Hell, there's

things I don't know about Hannah, even after all the years I've known her."

I was silent, looking at him, and thinking about what he was saying.

"And Doc was a private sort of guy, too. I don't think he really opened up all that much to a lot of people," Adam continued.

"Yeah," I said, in agreement. A sudden thought of one of my conversations with Doc G went thru my mind right then. "He

did tell me something about his childhood in Ireland. And about his brother, Johnny, that died. He told me that he didn't talk about his brother very much."

"There. You see. He trusted you enough to share that with you. That's pretty special," Adam said.

We both drank our hot drinks in silence for a couple of minutes.

"I'll talk to Irene," I said.

"I don't see any harm in it."

"Okay," I said.

Adam drained his cup and stood up to refill his cup. "Want some more?" he asked, gesturing to the milk that was

left in the pan.

"No, thanks."

Adam poured the milk from the pan into a glass, and put it in the refrigerator. He sat back down in the chair, and I looked at him.

"Is that all you wanted to talk to me about?" I asked.

"Well, that was part of it. But not all, no."

"What else?" I asked.

"I got a phone call yesterday. I wanted to wait until the funeral was over before I talked to you about it."

"Is it something bad?" I asked. The look on his face was so serious.

"No. Not bad. The call was from a lawyer. Doc G's lawyer."

I was really confused now. But before I could ask any questions, Adam went on. "He's asked that you come

to his office. Well, you, and me, too."

"Why does a lawyer want to talk to me?"

"Because Doc G left you something. In his will."

I stared at Adam, My heart started pounding. "He did? What is it? You mean, like old Charlie?" I asked, mentioning Doc G's

old horse.

"Honey, I don't know. The secretary that I talked to didn't say anything at all about what it is. She just said when he'd like us to come."

"When is it?"

"Tomorrow afternoon. At 4 o'clock. His office is in Modesto."

I sat there, silent and thinking. In a way, I wasn't that surprised that Doc G had left me something. That was like him. To

think of me. The more I thought about it, the more certain I was that it was old Charlie, or Clarence. He had to know that

I would love them.

"It might be Clarence," I said, gauging Adam's reaction to that. He was bound to be thinking that the three dogs we had was enough.

"You think so?" he asked, not showing what he thought.

"It's possible. If it is Clarence, I have to keep him, Adam. You understand, don't you?"

"Yeah. I understand."

"So he can stay then?" I asked him pleadingly.

"I'm not the kind of guy that's goin' to toss an old, fat dog out into the street, sugar."

"Oh, I know that!" I said, worried that I'd made him feel bad.

"Okay. Well, I'm bushed. Think I'll go upstairs and hang out with the little man for awhile before bed," Adam said, getting

to his feet.

I got up, too, and pushed my chair up to the table.

As we walked out of the kitchen together, Adam switched off the light, and wrapped his arm around my waist.

"If it's Clarence, and maybe Charlie and Captain Jack," I said, as we walked together, "that means Doc G must have

trusted me a lot. Because he loved them all so much."

"Uh huh," Adam said.

"Don't you think that's what it means, Adam?" I persisted. "That he trusted me to love what was important to him?"

"I think that's exactly what it means, sugar."

7777777


	41. Irene answers

I was out feeding the goats the next morning when Hannah stepped out onto the front porch and called to me,

"Harlie! Telephone!"

"Okay!" I hollered back. I went out, shutting the gate against Elwood P. Dowd, who was trying persistently to go outside

of the gate with me.

"Go and eat," I told him, giving him a little push.

I went up the front porch steps, wiping my dirty hands on my jeans. I was expecting the call to be from Irene, and

so when I lifted the receiver and said 'Hello?', I wasn't surprised to hear her voice.

"Hello, Harlie. This is Irene Sampell."

"Hello."

"Did your brother-Adam, isn't it? Did he mention to you that I'd be calling?"

"Yes, it's Adam. And, yeah, he told me that you wanted to come by. That's fine."

"Oh, that's good," she said, sounding really glad. "I'll see you after a bit, then."

"Okay. Do you need directions to get here?"

"No. Adam very kindly drew out a map for me yesterday."

We said goodbye to one another, and I hung the phone up, thinking. I went in search of Hannah. She was in the kitchen,

making homemade rolls. Isaac was in his bouncer seat on the kitchen table.

I told her Irene was coming, and she looked up from her dough kneading, brushing back a wisp of her dark hair.

"I talked to her for a little while yesterday," Hannah said. "She's a very interesting person."

"Yeah," I said in agreement.

"You could make some iced tea," Hannah suggested. "I noticed she drank some yesterday."

"Okay," I said, and went to the sink to wash my hands, before I started searching thru the cabinets for a pitcher. After I'd mixed the tea, and dumped some ice cubes in, I put it in the refrigerator.

Isaac started fussing, so I unbuckled him from his bouncer and picked him up.

When I'd sat down, and started talking to him, making faces, and blowing raspberries on his little hand, and generally

acting like a total idiot, Hannah laughed.

"You're very good with him," she said.

"I can't believe how much I love him already," I said.

"I understand. Babies have a way of bringing all of your love to the surface."

"Doc G would have liked him," I said.

Hannah gave me a sad look. "I think so, too."

I met her look and then asked, "Has Adam talked to you about the call from the lawyer?"

"Yes. He told me." She started kneading the dough again. "What are you going to wear when you go to the office?"

She had that tone to her voice that I've learned to recognize. "I don't need to dress up, do I?"

"No. But you should try to look nice."

"Okay."

I stood up, rocking the baby gently back and forth, until he was asleep.

"Want me to take him upstairs?" I asked Hannah.

"Yes, thank you. Would you mind grabbing some of the laundry up there and bringing it back down?"

I told her I would, and once I was upstairs, I laid Isaac in his crib, and wound up the music player on the side of the crib. I gathered up the baby clothes from the hamper and a couple of his outfits that were on the bed.

I went back thru the kitchen and told Hannah I would put the load in the washing machine.

"Thank you, sweetie. After that, how about helping me make some cookies?"

It was while we were doing that, that there was a knock on the front door.

"It must be Irene," I said.

"You two can talk in the living room," Hannah said.

"Okay." I turned to look back at her as I walked out of the kitchen.

"You can come in there, too," I said.

"This is your visit, sweetie," Hannah said. "I'll stay in here and finish the cookies."

"Well-" I hesitated.

"Unless you want me to join you?" she asked me, correctly reading my thoughts.

"Yes. Please," I said, giving her a small smile.

I wasn't sure why the thought of Hannah being in the room during the conversation made me feel better. It wasn't as if Irene was going to be rude, or anything like that. But somehow, it just did make me feel better.

I went to the front door, and opened it.

"Hello," Irene greeted me, thru the screen door.

"Hi."

A couple of moments went by before I realized I was pretty much just staring at her. I brought myself back with a snap. She must think I was crazy.

"Sorry," I said, in apology for my lack of manners. I pushed the screen door open. "Come in."

"Thank you." Irene stepped inside, and I shut the heavy wooden door behind her.

"Oh, this is nice!" Irene said, looking around our big living room.

I thought of what I'd seen of her house, with its marble stairs and valuable antiques. Our house was in no way comparable.

But I could tell she was sincere in her admiration of the room, and the simple country-style décor.

"It's pretty comfortable," I said.

"Yes. And that's the way it should be." She turned to look directly at me, and smiled a little.

"You can sit down," I said, gesturing to the couch.

Irene sat down on one end of the couch, and I stood there for a moment, feeling uncertain, and a little bit shy.

"I enjoyed meeting your brothers yesterday," she said. "And your sister-in-law, too. She's very nice."

I nodded. "She is."

"I'm glad you decided to talk to me, Harlie," she said. "I was hoping that you would."

"It's okay." I hesitated. "Would you like some iced tea?"

"That sounds really good."

"Alright. I'll be right back," I said, and went quickly to the kitchen.

Hannah was leaning down, putting another batch of cookies into the oven.

"Everything going alright?" she asked me, straightening up, and rubbing her lower back.

I nodded. "She said she'd like some iced tea."

"Well, you do that, and then I'll bring in a plate of cookies."

I poured two glasses of tea, and one of water for Hannah, and then put them on a little white tray and went back to the living room, Hannah not far behind, carrying some oatmeal raisin and applesauce cookies on a plate.

"Hello, Hannah," Irene said, standing up as we came in.

"Hello, Irene," Hannah said, seemingly at ease. "Sit down, please."

Irene sat back down, and Hannah set the plate of cookies on the coffee table, and then pulled the rocker over closer to the

couch. She sat in that, and then patted the chair that was in between where she and Irene were sitting, in an obvious attempt to encourage me to sit down. I set the tray with the iced tea on the table beside the cookies, and then sat down in the chair.

Irene, without any prompting, took one of the glasses of iced tea, and sipped at it.

She looked at me directly, and I was struck by how blue her eyes were.

"Doc loved you, Harlie," she said then, so quickly and to the point that I was startled. And then I bit my lip, feeling

emotional and strange.

"You knew that. Didn't you?" she was asking.

I hadn't thought of it in terms of love, but I remembered the look I'd exchanged with Doc G the day he took the film I'd shot of the dog mill. He'd also taken a chance that day on something I believed in. I'd seen love in his eyes that day, across the table at Marie's café, and I'd hoped he'd seen the love in mine as well.

"He never said so," I managed. "But I knew he did, yeah."

"It wasn't really his way to say it," Irene said. "He was good about showing it, though." She looked

thoughtful for a moment, and then said, "I wore yellow yesterday because that was his favorite color. I'm

sure some folks thought it was improper to not wear black. But he always liked yellow."

"I think that's a nice way to honor him," Hannah said.

Irene took another drink of her tea, and then, resting the glass between her hands, she said, "Is there anything you'd like to ask me about him, Harlie? I may not know the answer, but if I do, I'll tell you."

I looked at Hannah, and she gave me a nod of encouragement.

"Was he sick? I mean, did he know he had a heart condition, or anything like that?" I asked.

"My goodness," she said. "You get right to the point, don't you?" She sighed, and then gave me another direct look. It was full of sadness. "Yes. He'd had a heart attack, oh, about eight years ago. He had some surgery, and then he was prescribed medication to take."

She saw, and rightly understood what I was thinking by the expression on my face, because she echoed my own thoughts.

"I wanted him to slow down, too, and take things a little easier. But he wouldn't have been happy living that way."

"Brian says Doc G lived his life the way he wanted to live it," I offered, quietly.

"And Brian would be exactly right about that," Irene said in agreement.

After a moment, she said, "He didn't like to make a big thing about the medication, or having had a heart attack. He said it was the cards he was dealt, and that he would keep playing the cards until the game was over."

"What happened to his brother, Johnny?" I asked then.

Irene shook her head. "I don't know. He never told me that. And I never asked."

I thought for a minute. Hannah reached for her glass of water, and handed me my glass of tea. I took a drink, and then said,

"I didn't know he was in the Army."

"Yes. He served in Korea. 1950 to 1952, I believe."

I'd read stories, and learned a little about the Korean war in school, but not enough to have any true knowledge of it.

"He didn't enjoy his time there. But he did believe in why he was there," she continued.

I wondered about their relationship, hers and Doc G's. They'd seemed to be close friends, but something more than that,

too. And the fact that she knew things about him, like that he had a heart condition. Even Marie, who'd known him for years, hadn't known that about him. I decided to bide my time, though. Instead, I asked her to tell me some stories that she knew about

Doc G. So she did. She was in the middle of telling a story when Brian and Adam came in, followed shortly by Evan.

Irene stopped her story to stand, and greet Adam and Brian, and then shake Evan's hand.

"You're Evan," she said.

"Yes, ma'm," Evan said.

"I've heard about you," Irene said, and Evan looked confused, and then embarrassed.

"That can't be a good thing," Brian said, and Irene smiled.

"Actually, it is a good thing. I've heard you're good at breaking horses."

Evan shrugged, still looking embarrassed, yet pleased.

"Pretty fair, I guess," he said.

"One of the best around here, is actually the words I heard used," Irene said.

"Don't tell him that," Adam said, lightly, teasing, with a shake of his head. "His head won't fit thru the door."

"I'd like to talk to you about a business proposition, if you think you might be interested," Irene continued.

Evan nodded. "Sure thing."

After that, they all found a place to sit, and Irene finished her story about Doc G.

"I know a funny one about him, too," I said. "About him and his brother, Johnny."

I was almost sorry that I'd spoken up, but Irene gave me an encouraging nod.

"Let's hear it," she said.

So I told them all the story about the time in Ireland, when, as boys, Doc G and Johnny and their cousins had taken

their pet raccoon into church, and then let him loose. After which, when folks looked up from the prayer, the raccoon was

sitting up front, eating the communion bread.

After that, and more talking about Doc G, I got quiet while they all talked about him. Irene ended up being invited to stay

for lunch with us.

Afterwards, as she was saying her goodbyes, she told Evan she would call him sometime in the next week. She turned to me.

"Will you walk out with me, Harlie?" she asked me.

"Sure."

We walked out together, towards her blue Impala car. Once there, she leaned against the car, and reached into the pocket

of her skirt, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. She shook one out, and put the pack away again. After lighting it, she took a long

draw, and sighed.

"Don't ever start smoking, Harlie," she cautioned. "It gets such a hold on you."

I nodded, without answering, and after a couple of moments, she gave me one of those direct looks of hers.

"You got very quiet in there. Before lunch. I hope it didn't make your pain worse, hearing me talk about G."

"No. I mean, it's sad, but I liked hearing the stories about him," I said.

"I'm glad about that. I don't feel as though I really gave you answers to all the questions you had about him."

"You answered my questions," I told her.

Irene took another puff from her cigarette, and looked at me knowingly. "All of them?" she asked.

"Well," I hesitated. "No."

"Well, ask me whatever it is. I've told you that if I know the answer, I'll tell you."

"Marie told me that he has a sister. Did she come to the funeral?"

"No. She's in poor health. Wheelchair bound. She lives in Oregon."

"In the song that you sang yesterday? What does 'say an Ave' mean?" I asked.

"It basically means prayer. To say a prayer for the person."

"Oh. It was a beautiful song."

"Yes. It is. He told me once that it was the song that was sung at his brother's funeral. I thought it was a

way to honor G, and the memory of Johnny, too."

"I think he would have liked that," I told her.

"Yes. I think so, too."

We were both silent for some moments, and then she said, "What else?"

I looked at her, wondering how she knew there was something more that I wanted to know.

"I don't think you should be a poker player. You have a very expressive face, Harlie. I know there's something else.

Something you wanted to ask me, even the first time that we met."

I felt a little strange that she could read me like that. But I met her gaze and asked, "Were you and Doc G ever in love?"

Irene didn't look surprised at my question. "I love him. I loved him madly. For many, many years. But, in love? No. That

wouldn't have suited either one of us. We both loved other people."

"He loved his wife? Truly?"

"You know about Truly, then?" Irene asked me.

"Just that he was married to her fairly young. And that she died in a car accident."

"That's right. And yes, he loved her very much."

"And your husband? That's who you loved?"

"Yes. Jake."

"But-" I hesitated, searching for the right words. "There was something between you and Doc G, though. I saw it."

"Yes. There was something between us, alright. A friendship to survive the years. Understanding. And something more,

as well."

"What?"

Irene let her cigarette drop to the ground, and pressed it out with the toe of her high heeled shoe.

"Truly was my sister."

"Oh." I let out my breath. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be."

"So, Doc G was like a brother to you," I mused.

"Yes. The very best. He introduced me to my husband, too. They were very good friends."

"Oh. That's cool," I said.

"They served in Korea together."

"Wow. The four of you really did have history between you," I said.

"We did," she agreed.

She crossed her arms, looking at me. "Anything else?" she asked me.

"No." I honestly couldn't think of anything else right at that moment.

"Alright. I like your family, Harlie."

I nodded. "I like them, too." Then I added honestly, "Most of the time, at least."

Irene smiled. "At your age, that's normal."

After a few more moments of silence, she said, "I should be heading on." She opened her car door, and

settled into the seat, straightening her skirt. Thru the open door, she looked up at me.

"I'm hoping to recruit Evan for a project that I'm thinking about. G said there wouldn't be a better person

to do the job. I hope you feel like coming along with him sometime to visit me. I'd like it very much if you did."

"Alright. Thank you," I said.

Irene sighed. "He was a fine man. My best friend. I'm going to miss him terribly."

In her eyes, I saw the sadness and despondence that I felt were in my own.

"Me, too," I said.

"Take care," she said, and shut her car door. She rolled her window down, and hesitated, as if thinking.

"He really did adore you, you know," she said, repeating what she'd told me earlier. "It's not just what I think. He told me so himself."

"He did?" I asked, tears welling up in my eyes.

She nodded, and I spoke past the lump in my throat. "I felt the same about him," I managed.

Irene nodded again. She put out her hand to me thru the open window, and I reached out to take it.

"Hold the memories close, Harlie. Not the pain."

She squeezed my hand, and then let it go, giving me a little wave, and driving away.

7


	42. Blindsided

I was still standing there, watching Irene's small car travel down the driveway, when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

I jumped a little, startled.

"You scared me!" I said, turning to look up at Adam. "I didn't hear you come up."

"Sorry," he said. He looked after the cloud of dust of Irene's departing car, too. "How'd your visit go?"

"It was okay," I said, noncommittingly.

"She seems like a fine person," he said.

"I think she is," I agreed.

"Well, listen, we've got around an hour and a half until we need to leave for the lawyer's office. So don't go ridin' or anything."

"Okay."

As Adam started past me, on his way back towards the barn, I spoke up.

"Adam?"

"Huh?" he asked, stopping to look back at me.

"Can Guthrie go with us?"

"If you want."

"Okay. Thanks." I went in search of Guthrie, and found him, still in the kitchen, eating a second piece of apple pie.

When I asked him to go with me and Adam, he shrugged and went to put his plate and glass in the sink.

"You want me to?" he asked.

"I'm asking you, aren't I?" I responded.

"Ok, Grumpy Gertie, I'll go," he said.

"I'm not Grumpy Gertie," I denied. "I'm just nervous, I guess."

I followed him outside, and went with him to the barn, where we started mucking the stalls.

After working together in silence for awhile, Guthrie spoke up. "It's pretty great. Doc G givin' you something in his will like that."

I nodded without answering, and Guthrie changed the subject.

"Back to school on Monday," he said, sounding glum.

Yet another subject I didn't have much to say about. "Uhhh," I said, in agreement.

"And Ford will be goin' back to college," Guthrie added.

"And Daniel will be leaving," I volunteered.

We straightened up from our mucking, and leaned on our pitchforks.

"My truck's leakin' oil," he went on.

I caught on to the game now. "I can't even drive my car yet," I said.

Guthrie held out his hand to show a black thumbnail. "I smashed my thumb this morning."

I raised my elbow. "The goats pushed me into the gate and made a bruise on my arm."

We were still playing the "I've got worse luck than you" game when we finished putting down fresh hay in the stalls.

"Guess I'd better go in and wash up and change my clothes," I told him.

"Yeah. I'll go change, too."

We leaned our pitchforks in a corner, and started towards the house.

"I don't see why we have to go all the way to a lawyer's office just to be told that I get Clarence and probably

Captain Jack," I mused aloud to Guthrie. "I mean, why couldn't they just say that in a letter or something?"

"Who knows?" Guthrie said. "Probably they have to follow some kind of protocal, or somethin'."

I gave him a playful shove. "Listen to you, talking all fancy and educated."

Guthrie crossed his eyes and went into a comedy routine. "Why, shore," he said, in an exaggerated Southern drawl, "I done graduated the sixth grade, and it only took me eight years."

I had to grin at him. "Go take a shower," I told him. "You smell bad from mucking the barn."

Still clowning around, Guthrie staggered toward the stairs. "Why, I cain't take no bath today! It tain't Saturday night! Ya know I only take a bath once a week!"

I left Guthrie at the door of his room, going to Hannah and Adam's bedroom, and tiptoeing in, in case the baby was sleeping.

He wasn't. His eyes were open, and he was looking around the room. I went to lean over the side of the crib.

"Hello there, handsome," I told him. "I'll hold you as soon as I wash my hands and change."

I stripped off my jeans and sweatshirt in Hannah's bathroom, and washed, and then walked into her big closet, searching for

my dress clothes. I found a jean skirt and a blue blouse, and after dressing, I went to my own room to find my teal blue boots. My

'Brian' boots, as I thought of them. I took them back to Hannah's room, and sat down on the bed.

"I'm not wearing pantyhose," I said, aloud, in conversation to Isaac. Instead I pulled a pair of Hannah's clean socks out of

her dresser and put those on. No one would be able to tell, I rationalized, with my boots on, and since my skirt was almost to my knees.

After I'd pulled on my boots, I stood up, gathered Isaac up in my arms and went back to my room

yet again to grab my hairbrush.

I went downstairs, just time to meet Adam as he was going up.

"You look nice," he told me, giving Isaac a kiss on his forehead.

"Thanks."

"I'll change and be down in a minute," he told me.

In the kitchen, I found Hannah sitting at the table, talking to Clare, who'd just gotten home from her new job

at the hospital in Modesto. Brian had been against her taking the nursing job there, saying that it was a lot of driving

back and forth, and he didn't like the idea of her being on the roads late at night. But she'd convinced him, and had been working there for almost two weeks now, two days out of the week.

Since she had to leave so early in the morning, I hadn't seen her since the night before.

She and Hannah both told me that I looked nice, too, and I asked how her shift at the hospital had gone. It was always interesting to hear about the people she met, and some of her patients.

Hannah held out her arms for Isaac, and I passed him to her.

"What are you doing awake, little man?" she said, covering his face with kisses.

"He was just laying there, looking around," I said.

Guthrie came into the kitchen, his hair wet from the shower, wearing a better pair of jeans, and a blue snap-up shirt. He went to open and stick his head into the refrigerator.

"Where's the pie?" he asked.

"It's gone," Hannah told him.

"Good grief, Guthrie, you just ate," I said.

"There's cookies in the cookie jar," Hannah said, taking pity on him.

"Great," Guthrie said, sticking his hand into our cookie jar, which is, by the way, shaped like a barn and 'moos' like a cow when the lid is opened.

As Guthrie was eating his cookies, I checked my blood sugar level, and drank a glass of water. After that, I asked Clare to put a French braid in my hair. By that time, Adam had come into the kitchen, tucking his shirt into his jeans.

"You kids ready?" he asked Guthrie and I.

"What time do you think you might be home?" Hannah asked him.

"Hard to say. Maybe an hour or so with the lawyer. So around seven, maybe?" Adam said.

"I'll keep supper warm for all of you," she said.

"I might spring for pizza on the way home," Guthrie offered.

"You need to save your money, cowboy," Hannah told him, and Adam shrugged.

"Well, we'll see," he said. He leaned down to give Hannah a quick kiss, and then let Isaac's little hand curl around

one of his fingers. "Don't worry if we're a little late, then. If Guthrie wants to buy me a steak, I might have to go for it."

"Hey," Guthrie protested, good-naturedly, "I said pizza, not steak."

7

On the ride to Modesto, I was mostly quiet, letting Adam and Guthrie talk across me in the truck. Mostly they talked about every-day things. The calves being born, what the weather was expected to be that weekend, and all of that.

Once we hit the city limits, Adam told us to start watching for certain streets, and he kept looking at the piece of paper he'd written the address down on.

Finally, Guthrie spotted the intersection that the lawyer's office was located on, on a corner.

Adam pulled into the parking lot, and shut the truck off. "Twenty minutes to spare," he said.

"Should we go in, or wait?" I asked, feeling nervous and uncertain, and looking at Adam for advice.

"We can go on in," Adam said, and I was glad for his comforting, confident presence.

Guthrie and I followed him inside. The inner office was what I considered cold and

uninviting. The carpet was an off-white color, and the paintings on the walls were those kind that are abstract, or whatever. The ones that don't really look like a real picture at all. I like paintings that look real, like of houses, and animals and barns. Things like that.

Adam told the receptionist our names and that we had a four o'clock appointment with Steve Jensen. She told us to sit down, and so we did. I tucked my boots up under my chair.

"What kind of idiot would want white carpeting?" Guthrie said, in derision, and Adam shushed him.

Guthrie crossed his eyes at me, and I poked my elbow in his ribs. I knew he was trying to relieve my nervousness.

At exactly four o'clock on the dot, a door to the side of the receptionist's office opened, and a man stepped out. Dressed in a three-piece suit, he looked to be in his forties. He smiled at us. Adam and I stood up.

"Mr. McFadden?" he asked, stepping forward to extend a hand to Adam.

"Adam," Adam corrected, and they shook hands.

"Steve Jensen," he identified himself. He turned to me, standing at Adams elbow. "You must be Harlie," he greeted me.

"Yes, sir," I said, and he shook my hand as well.

He then turned to Guthrie, who was still sitting. "You part of this group?" he asked Guthrie, with a grin.

Guthrie stood up, too, and I said, "This is my brother, Guthrie."

"Hello, Guthrie," Mr. Jensen said,

Guthrie said hello, and Mr. Jensen turned and gestured toward the open door of his office.

"Come on in."

As Guthrie would have sat back down in the waiting room, I caught at his arm. "You come too," I hissed at him in a whisper.

Once inside the office, Mr. Jensen closed the door behind us, and offered us each a chair. I sat in the chair next to Adam, which put me between him and Guthrie, and then Mr. Jensen sat down behind his desk.

" I want to thank you for coming today," he said. "Adam, I appreciate you bringing Harlie in. The promptness will help

to expedite what Garrett wanted."

What who wanted? Oh, Garrett. Garrett was Doc G's name. How strange to hear him called that.

"No problem," Adam was telling him.

Mr. Jensen turned his attention to me. "I'm going to be talking mostly to you the rest of the time today, Harlie."

"Okay," I said. My stomach felt funny.

"First of all, I want to tell you that I've known, and been a friend of Garrett's for a long time. I know first-hand what a fine person that he was. I understand your grief, because he told me how close you and he were."

I bit at my bottom lip. I already felt emotional, and we'd barely begun. Doc G had talked about me to this man. Told him that he thought well of me.

"Thank you," I managed. I didn't know if it was the right thing to say, but I guess it was alright, because the lawyer smiled.

"The second thing is, I want to give this to you now, before we go on." He handed me an envelope and I reached out to take it. It was sealed, and the front had what looked like hastily scrawled handwriting, 'Harlie Mac'.

"That's a letter that he left for you. It's a personal letter to you. I don't have any idea what's in it," the lawyer

was saying.

"Oh," I said, running my fingers over the edge of the envelope.

"Now, if you're ready, we'll move on to your involvement in his will."

"I already know. Or I think I do," I said. "He wanted me to take Clarence, and Captain Jack, probably."

"Captain Jack? That's that foul-tempered old parrot of his, isn't it?" Mr. Jensen asked me.

When I nodded, he smiled a little. "Well, Harlie, I don't know anything about Clarence. Or Captain Jack. Perhaps he

tells you about that in the letter there. Since that's of more of a personal nature."

"Oh." I was wondering what it was, in the will, if it wasn't the animals.

"I'll read to you his wishes, if that's alright."

I nodded, and Adam reached over to take hold of my hand, the one that wasn't holding the letter.

And in a steady voice, Mr. Jensen began to read,

"To Harlie Marie McFadden, I bequeath ownership of the 1985 Chevrolet pickup for her use."

He paused, and I felt my eyes widen, and my stomach jump. He'd left me his truck?

"Wow," I heard Guthrie whisper, next to me.

"I understand that the truck has been taken to his home, and it can be picked up there," Mr. Jensen said. He reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a set of keys and handed them across the desk to me. I took them in my hand, the same one that held the letter. The keys felt cold.

Mr. Jensen started talking about insurance, and transfer of title and all of that, and I didn't really understand much of it.

"I'll go on, if you're ready," Mr. Jensen said, and when I just stared, and didn't answer, I heard Adam say, "Go ahead."

"Further, it is my intent to specify the amount of $30,000 to be placed in a trust for Harlie Marie McFadden, in care of Adam McFadden, for the exclusive use of her college education at the institution of her choice."

"What?" I said, I couldn't believe what I was hearing. That couldn't be right!

I didn't think I'd said that last part out loud, but I apparently had, because Mr. Jensen looked at me thru his glasses and said, "I assure you, Harlie, it is correct. Garrett was very definite about this. He wanted you to have the opportunity to go where you wanted to go, and pursue the career goals that were your choice."

I turned to look at Adam, confused, and uncertain. Adam was looking as stunned as I was feeling.

"Doc G had that kind of money?" Adam asked.

"Yes. He did." Mr. Jensen took off his glasses and laid them on the desk.

Adam and I, and I guess Guthrie, too, were silent, just looking at him with stunned expressions.

Mr. Jensen leaned forward in his chair a little, folding his hands together. He was quiet. I think he was letting it sink in.

"I didn't have any idea," Adam said.

"Other parts of his estate he's designated for his sister, a few friends, and some animal shelters. But yes, the amount he specified for Harlie's education was one of his most fervent intents."

He turned to look at me again. "Well, Harlie, what do you think? A little overwhelming?"

"Yes, sir," I managed.

"The money is, as stated, to be used for your education. If you should decide not to pursue a college education, then he's left it to Adam's discretion, for it to be held in trust for you until you reach the age of 24. At that point, you would be able to use the money for another purpose."

"She'll use it for school," Adam said, and I heard the iron resolve in his voice.

Mr. Jensen smiled slightly. "Garrett felt that you and your other brother-Crane, I think he said-would be able to

use your influence with Harlie to stick to the purpose of it. Using the money for college."

"It's Crane, yeah, and yes, we will," Adam said, with determination.

"Alright. There's a few items that you and I need to discuss, Adam, about what bank the trust will be at, and things like that."

"Alright," Adam said,

And so they talked about that, and other things, like how the money would be accruing interest for the next two and a half years, at which point I could withdraw it in certain increments as needed for tuition and other college incidentals. These withdrawals, again, would be at Adam's discretion and direction.

I sat there quietly, but the thoughts in my head weren't quiet. They were running thru my mind like crazy. Doc G had been rich. Well, not rich, maybe, but wealthy. He'd left me the means to go wherever I wanted to go to college. SC Davis, even, if I wanted. And now, there would be no financial hardship on the family.

And his truck! He'd tended to that truck, giving it the best care possible, always making sure it was up to date on oil changes, and all of that. Granted, it was a ranch/veterinary truck, used for carrying animals and tools, and as such, it was known for dog hair on the seats, some scratches in the pickup bed, and usually filled with a coffee cup or two. But, it was still fairly new, and shiny black.

I heard Adam saying my name, and when I looked at him, I knew he'd said it more than once. I'd been so deep in my thoughts that I hadn't heard him.

"Time to go," Adam was saying.

He shook hands with Mr. Jensen once more, and we all went out into the waiting room.

Mr. Jensen looked at me again.

"You have your letter, Harlie?" he asked me.

"Yes," I said. I was still clutching the letter in my hand.

"It's been a bit shocking, hasn't it?" His eyes were kind.

"Yeah." I hesitated. "I guess I don't know what to say, exactly."

"No need to worry about that," he said. "It'll take a little while, likely, for it to seem real." He paused. "I'm going to

miss him," he said, and in that moment, I felt united with him, in sadness and grief.

"Me, too," I said.

He nodded, and then his stoic lawyer face was back. "Any questions, you can give me a call," he was telling Adam.

I climbed into the middle of the seat in the truck, and when Adam and Guthrie were both in, Adam started the truck,

and backed out of the parking lot.

We were driving thru the center of town, when Guthrie spoke up.

"I'm still up for buyin' supper," he said.

"It's up to you two," Adam said, sounding far away.

"Har?" Guthrie asked me.

"Sure. It's fine if you guys want to." I didn't care about eating. I felt detached, not connected to reality.

Eventually, Guthrie pointed out a Pizza Hut, and as we were getting out to go inside, Adam took the letter and keys that I was still holding tightly in my hand. "Let's put these away for right now," he said, sounding calm, and leaning over to put them into the glove compartment.

I followed Guthrie inside, and to a table, with Adam behind me, his hand on my waist.

Guthrie ordered pizza, and I knew he asked for Canadian bacon, my favorite. And while I appreciated that, when the waitress brought it to the table, I ate one piece, not because I felt hungry, but only to please him.

"We'll take home what's left," Guthrie said, as we were finishing up our mostly-silent meal.

I felt bad, as we were walking out. "Sorry, Guth," I said. "Just not very hungry."

"It's okay. Just be warned that once Ford smells it, it'll be gone."

As we started the hour and a half drive towards home, I still felt as though I was in some kind of dream. Since neither Adam or I were very forthcoming, Guthrie gave up on conversation.

At home, Adam parked the truck, and shut the engine off. Guthrie took his box with the leftover pizza, and got out

to go inside the house.

Adam and I sat there, still and quiet, for a few minutes, neither one of us making any move to get out of the truck.

"Don't forget your letter there," Adam said finally, gesturing to the glove compartment.

I leaned over and took out the envelope and the keys and then shut it again.

I laid the keys beside me in the seat, and held the letter in both of my hands, looking down at it.

"What do you think he wrote in here?" I asked Adam quietly.

"I don't know, baby."

"It must be kind of important, for him to write a letter to me. Don't you think?"

"I'd say it was."

"When do you think I should read it?" I asked, turning sideways and looking up at him.

"That's up to you. But I don't see any need to rush."

I bit my lip, and looked at the letter again. "I'm sort of scared to read it," I admitted. "I guess that sounds kind of

dumb."

"I don't think it sounds dumb at all," Adam defended.

"It's been an emotional couple of days," I said. "I don't think I want to read it yet."

Adam laid his arm across the back of the seat, and then brought it down, to wrap around my shoulders. He pulled me in tight to his side and kissed the top of my head. Then we were quiet again.

From where we were sitting, we could see the front door open, and Hannah came out onto the porch. She stood there, just looking towards the truck.

"Hannah's gettin' anxious about us," Adam said. "We better head inside."

"Yeah," I said, in agreement.

After Adam got out, he waited while I hopped down, and then shut the door.

"I think I might want you to be there when I read the letter," I said. "Okay?"

"If you want me to, then I will be."

7


	43. Ford McFadden, MD

That was Friday night. Monday was the restart of school, and I was dreading it like crazy. It seemed like we'd been on

break forever, yet at the same time it seemed like not enough time.

When Adam and I met Hannah on the porch Friday night, and then went inside, he made quick work out of telling

the family what had taken place at the lawyer's office. To say that everybody was shocked would be an understatement.

"I'll be damned," I heard Brian mutter.

Other voices, Ford's I think, chimed in to say how amazing it was.

Hannah's eyes were filled with tears. "That dear, dear man," she said.

I made my escape, saying that I was heading upstairs to the shower, after which I went back downstairs,

in my flannel pajamas, the red and white checked ones that Ford tells me look like a tablecloth.

Adam was sitting on the couch beside Hannah, his long legs stretched out in front of him. Ford and Evan were

eating what was left of the pizza that Guthrie had brought home.

"I told you," Guthrie said to me, pointing at Ford and Evan. "Didn't I tell you they'd smell it and devour?"

"It's okay," I said.

"Well, go get somethin' to eat," Adam told me. "Five bites of pizza won't make for a good level."

Immediately, Hannah sat up straighter, and started to get up. "How about an egg sandwich? And there's some

of that cucumber salad left-"

Adam caught her arm, halting her from getting up. "Harlie can make her own egg sandwich."

"Well, but she needs to eat, it sounds like-" Hannah continued to fret.

"Yeah, and she's going now to get somethin'," Adam said, sounding firm. "Right, Harlie?"

"Right," I said, and Adam pulled Hannah back against him again.

"Just relax," he told her.

"Okay," Hannah said, leaning back into him.

I went to the kitchen and started rummaging thru the refrigerator. As I was doing that, Crane and Brian came in

the back door. They were arguing about something. I listened enough to know it was about who the new waitress at the diner

on the highway looked like, and that it wasn't a serious argument.

I got out the cucumber salad, and spooned a small amount on a plate. Then I got an apple and a banana, and a knife,

and hoisted myself up onto the cabinet by the sink, listening as the two of them continued to scrap with each other.

Brian started a pot of coffee, and Crane took the cookie jar and set it in the middle of the kitchen table, and then propped his

feet up on one chair, after he'd sat down.

The lid mooed once, and then he just left it open.

I interrupted their conversation to ask where Daniel was at.

"He went out," Brian volunteered.

"To play pool?" I asked.

"Naw, I think he had a date," Brian said.

I wondered who Daniel had a date with. As long, I thought, as it wasn't that despicable Reagan Clark. Brian poured himself and

Crane a cup of coffee, set Crane's in front of him, and then they went back to their discussion about the waitress.

"I'm tellin' you, she could be Michelle Pfeffer's twin," Brian was saying.

"Sigourney Weaver's twin," Crane disagreed, and took a couple of cookies from the cookie jar.

Clare came into the kitchen soon enough to hear the last snippets of the conversation. She rubbed her knuckles on the top

of Crane's head, and then wrapped her arms around Brian's neck from behind.

"So that's why you boys are always talking about going out to that diner," she said, in mock indignance. "I see I'm going to have

to go and have a look at this girl for myself."

Brian unwrapped her arms from his neck and pulled her around in front of him to sit on his lap.

"You've got it all over her, darlin'," Brian said.

"Uh huh," Clare said, running her hands thru his dark hair.

I ate my dab of cucumber salad, and gave my plate a push into the sink. Too hard of a push, by the sound of the plate

breaking.

That drew the attention of the trio at the table. "Whoops," I said, sheepishly.

"A million pieces? Or can it be glued?" Clare asked.

"I'll glue it," I said, retrieving the two halves of the plate out of the sink and laying them to the side.

I began to slice my apple and munch on the pieces. Guthrie wandered in, wearing a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, which is

his standard apparel for bed.

"What's to eat?" he asked in a general way, and peered into the cookie jar.

"Good grief, Crane," he grumbled. "One darn cookie left."

"I've had exactly two cookies," Crane defended himself.

"I made some pudding, Guthrie," Clare told him. "You could have some of that."

"Some of that sugar-free stuff?" Guthrie said in disgust. "No, thank you!"

"It just so happens that it's not sugar-free stuff, mister," Clare said. "It's the real deal. So zip your lip."

"Okay, okay, sorry," Guthrie said, and Crane laughed.

"Hey, remember, Brian? When we worried about how your sweet, demure little bride would hold up against all the

lovely children?" Crane asked.

Brian laughed, too, and I found myself smiling at their joking around. I finished my apple, and hopped down from

the counter, putting the banana back in the fruit bowl. I was suddenly very, very tired.

"Don't forget your shot," Clare said, and I nodded. I think I might have forgotten it if she hadn't said something.

When I'd done the shot, and put everything away, I went to lean against Crane for a minute.

"You doin' alright?" he asked me.

"I'm okay," I said. When he and Brian both gave me one of those looks that family gives you when they know you're not

telling the whole story, I sighed. "Just still feeling shocked, I guess."

"It's amazing," Clare said. "What he did for you."

"Yeah," I said, and bit at my lip. "It's amazing, for sure."

I suddenly felt as though I wanted to cry. "Guess I'll go to bed," I said. "Night."

They all said goodnight to me, and I went thru the living room, past Evan and Ford, who were watching a movie

on television.

At the top of the stairs, I hesitated, and then went to the end of the hallway, and tapped lightly on Adam and Hannah's

bedroom door.

"Come in," Hannah called.

I opened the door and stepped in. Hannah was sitting in the rocker, holding Isaac. Adam was stretched out on the bed, propped up by pillows.

"I just wanted to say goodnight," I said.

Hannah held out an arm to me, and I went over to lean down and give her a hug, and then look at the baby for a moment.

"You must be so tired," she said, looking up at me.

"I'm tired," I admitted. "But it's an inside kind of tired. Know what I mean?"

"I think I do. You've got a lot of things to sort out in your mind."

"I don't want to, though," I said. "I don't want to sort anything out, or think about it at all, even."

Adam spoke up from his spot on the bed. "Come over here, sugar."

I turned to look at him, and he patted the spot beside him. "Come on."

I sighed. "You're going to tell me that I should. That I need to sort out my thoughts and my feelings. That I can't hide from it. Right?"

"Don't be a mouth," he said, sounding irritated. "It's not necessary."

"Adam-"

"You don't have any idea what I'm going to say," he pointed out.

"Okay. Sorry," I mumbled.

I went to the edge of the bed, and sat down next to him, crossing my legs, Indian style, and turned to look at him.

"All I was going to say," he began, giving me an intent, raised eyebrow look, "was that you need to keep things to a minimum for awhile."

"What things?" I asked.

"Things that are goin' to stretch your emotional reserves right now. Takin' on anything that you don't have to. Just step back a little, and let some time go by."

"School's going to do that."

"Do what?"

"Cause stress." I was totally serious, but Adam did not look pleased.

"Harlie," he said, sounding impatient.

"I mean it. I need some more vacation time."

"Well, maybe so. But that's not an option. And school's not what I was talking about."

I felt suddenly, inexplicably, argumentative and cantankerous. "A few extra days away from school would help me. I know it would."

"Harlie," he said again. "Stop."

"I'm just telling you how I feel," I maintained, feeling sulky. "There are kids that miss tons of school, all the time. And for

stupid reasons."

"Those kids and their reasons aren't my concern. You are," he said, and then he just waited, looking at me.

"You sound like such a dad," I told him, and right at that moment, I didn't intend it as a compliment.

"Hmmm," he said, not rising to the bait.

"I'm not going to be able to concentrate in my classes at all," I persisted.

"I guess you'll have to figure that out," Adam said, and I could tell that he'd said all he was going to on the subject.

We surveyed each other for a couple of moments. I recognized the look on his face. It was one that said, quite plainly,

though without words, 'enough's enough'. "Why don't you head on to bed?" he said then, not unkindly. "It's been an

emotional day for you."

I felt sudden, traitorous tears spring to my eyes. "I can't say what I think without making you mad," I said.

"I'm not mad," he said. "I do, think, though, that we should call it done for tonight. It seems like you're set on

bein' stubborn, and I'm too tired for that right now. I want you to go on to bed, and get some sleep.

We can pick this conversation back up some other time."

I rubbed at my wet cheek. I wasn't sure just what I wanted at that moment. But it wasn't to be sent to bed like I was

eight years old.

I stood up, with what I thought was dignity. "That's okay," I said. "I don't want to talk about it to you anymore, anyway."

"Harlie!" Hannah spoke up, her voice shocked and reproving.

Adam responded to me as if Hannah hadn't spoken at all. "If that's what you want," he said. I saw the quick look of surprise and hurt on his face, and I went out of the room quickly, without saying good night, or anything more at all. I went downstairs and took a jacket from the hooks by the door, stuffing my feet into a pair of boots left there. They weren't mine, but a brother's, and as I thrust the door open, a voice from behind me said, "Hey, where you goin' with my boots?"

Evan was standing there, a piece of cake in his hand, looking at me in question. Ford wasn't far behind him.

"Just outside," I said, and went out, letting the screen door slam behind me.

I went outside, and down the front steps, clomping across the yard, to the pasture by the

barn. In the darkness, I could only see the outline of the horses in the pasture. I was intent on crawling thru the gate,

and whistling for Petra. Petting her would sooth my troubled soul, I knew. But I walked too fast, and Evan's boots

were too big. Some rocks, and unsteady steps, and down I went.

I sat there in the driveway, on the gravel, holding my skinned knee, and sniffing back tears, and generally feeling

sorry for myself.

Warrior came up to me, trying to get me to shake hands with him. I pushed him back a little, and then buried my

face in his fur.

I heard the screen door slam shut, but I didn't turn around. I just kept sitting there, my arm around Warrior's neck.

Footsteps crunched across the gravel, and then stopped beside me.

"Are you hurt?"

I shook my head, and then remembered it was dark, and he wouldn't be able to see that.

The only light was from the porch light that he'd snapped on as he came out.

"I'm alright," I said.

After a couple of moments, Ford crouched down beside me. "So you've just decided to sit here, in the driveway, at

eleven o'clock at night? For no reason?"

"I fell down. That's why I'm sitting here."

"Twisted ankle?" he asked me.

"Skinned knee."

"Let's go inside, and take a look," he said.

I sat where I was, not moving. "I was mean to Adam," I said.

"Come on. It's too cold to be sitting on the ground," he said, ignoring my comment, and reached down to pull me to my feet.

"I don't want to see anybody else," I protested.

"You don't have to. Just me. Everybody else is in bed." He took my hand and walked me towards the house.

True to his word, the house was quiet, the living room had only one lamp on.

Ford dropped my hand. "Come on to the kitchen, and I'll bandage your knee," he said, and walked on without waiting

to see if I would follow.

I kicked off Evan's boots, and trailed after him, pausing in the kitchen doorway. "It's okay," I said. "I'll wash it off upstairs."

"It's bleeding," he said, and gestured at my leg.

For the first time, I looked down and saw that there was, indeed, dripping blood, and a big hole in the knee of my

pajama bottoms.

"It's fine," I insisted.

"For such a smart girl, you act really dumb sometimes. You know that?" he said, with brutal brotherly honesty, continuing

to pull stuff out of the first aid kit.

I felt myself stubborning up, but I pushed it down, and went to hoist myself up on the counter next to where he

stood. Being a witch wouldn't serve a purpose. After all, this was Ford. I didn't have to prove anything to him.

I rolled up the leg of my pajamas.

"Put your foot in the sink," he ordered, and when I twisted around, and set my bare foot in the sink, he sprayed water

on my knee, and then lathered up soap on his hands, washing the dirt and blood from my skin. He sprayed it again to

rinse it off and then turned off the water, pulling a paper towel from the roll.

"Dry it off," he told me.

I dabbed at my wet skin, drying it.

"Now comes the fun part," he said, and promptly doused my knee with iodine.

"Fun for who?" I demanded, wincing at the sting. "Ouch!"

"You can jab yourself with a needle every day, but you can't handle a little iodine," Ford scoffed, shaking his head

at me.

As he layered two bandaids on the cut, I looked at him. "This is like when I was little, and you used to bandage me up

all the time."

Ford looked up to meet my eyes. "Yeah. You were a real klutz." He nudged my leg, and closed up the first aid kit. "There

you go. All done."

"I wasn't a klutz," I defended myself. "It was one of you boys, always causing me to get hurt."

"Not me," he denied.

"No," I admitted, in honesty. "It wasn't ever you. You were always taking care of me. Trying to keep me from

getting hurt, and out of trouble."

"Well, somebody had to try to keep you out of trouble," Ford said drily. "Even though it was a next to impossible job."

He went to the refrigerator, getting out the orange juice, and coming back to get a glass down from the cabinet.

He poured himself a glass of the juice, and then poured me one, too.

As we drank our juice, we were both silent for a couple of minutes, and then he said, quietly, "So what happened

with Adam?"

"He was trying to talk to me, and I-" I hesitated. "I wasn't very nice. I hurt his feelings, I think."

Ford regarded me seriously for a long moment, and then drained his glass.

"One thing about Adam," he said. "He'll always give a person another chance."

"Yeah. I'll try to talk to him in the morning."

I took my foot out of the sink, and swung around, letting my legs dangle down.

As Ford went to put the juice away, I spoke up quietly. "What do you think Heaven's like, Ford?"

Ford shut the refrigerator door, and turned to look at me seriously, putting his hands in his jean's pockets.

"I think it must be beautiful. Like-with everything all lit up, and shiny. And-" he hesitated, looking thoughtful, "I think

it's whatever a person loves. Like mountains, or water. And everything's peaceful."

I sighed. "That sounds nice. I hope you're right."

"I'm goin' up to bed. You coming?"

"Yeah." I pushed myself off the counter, and we went out of the kitchen, as Ford snapped off the light.

"What about the lamp?" I asked him, as we were thru the living room.

"I'll leave it on for Daniel."

At my bedroom door, I paused. "Thanks for patching me up," I said, quietly, so as not to wake anybody up.

"It's okay. Try and get some sleep."

Well, I tried. But sleep evaded me. I laid there in the darkness, listening to Guthrie's even breathing. I was still awake, when I thought

it must be the early morning hours of the next day. I got up and stepped over Guthrie, feeling my way to the door, and going out into the hall.

I padded down the back stairs, and went thru the kitchen, turning on the back porch light, and looking out the door. There he was, predictable as always. I opened the door, and knelt down on my good knee. "Come on, boy," I encouraged him, and he stood up. I picked up his blue blanket, and he followed me inside. I shut the door softly.

I curled up on the couch under a quilt, with him beside me. The sky was already starting to lighten with the morning by the time Clarence and I fell asleep.

7

The next morning I heard the sounds of the day being started. People walking thru the living room, the doors opening and closing, the sound of Isaac crying, and low voices. I laid there, my hand on Clarence's soft head, and with my eyes still closed. The smell of coffee and bacon penetrated thru the air. Clarence whined and I sat up, lifting him to the floor. He went to the front door, waiting patiently to be let outside.

I got up and went to open the door, and he went out. There was a decided chill in the air this morning. I shut the screen door, and waited for Clarence, his blue blanket in my hands.

Brian came up behind me, nudging me with his elbow. "Mornin'."

"Morning, Brian."

"Rough night?" he asked.

"Sleep was elusive," I said, trying to sound glib.

"Well, it was a pretty eventful day for you yesterday. Probably hard to turn your mind off to rest."

"Yeah," I said, in agreement.

Clarence made his way back up the front porch steps, and then found a place on the porch to lay in the weak sunshine. He looked at me expectantly.

"He wants his blanket," I told Brian, and pushed the screen door open, to step outside and lay the blanket between his paws.

Clarence did his usual nudging and rearranging of the blanket, to adjust it to his satisfaction.

I came back inside, shutting the door. Brian was looking out at Clarence, and he shook his head.

"It beats all, how he is with that darn blanket," he said.

"Clarence is special," I said.

"Well, he's an interesting old fella. I'll say that."

"I think Doc G meant for me to have him," I said.

"Well," Brian said, non committal, "maybe so."

That reminded me of the letter, safely tucked in a cubbyhole on Crane's desk, where Adam had put it last night, along with the key to the black truck.

That, in turn, made me think of last night's argument with Adam. Well, I didn't think it could really be considered an

argument. Adam would have shut down an argument, real quick. This had been more of a verbal scurmish. But I knew I'd acted badly, and been argumentative, and snippy. Hateful, even. I felt my eyes fill with tears.

"Breakfast is ready," Brian was saying.

Then he saw my face. "Tears already this mornin', peach?"

"I have to talk to Adam."

"Yeah? Well, I think he's eating. Probably on his second cup of coffee by now."

I tagged behind Brian to the kitchen, where there was a full table of McFaddens, and an extra breakfast eater. Red

was there, heaping his plate with biscuits and gravy.

He stood up, and greeted me with a tight hug, as was his custom. "Good to see you, girl," he said.

"Good to see you, too," I told him.

I went to sit down in my regular spot at the table, where Hannah regarded me with a serious expression. I saw some worry in it, but something else, too. A vague disapproval.

"No sleep last night?" she asked, and I knew she was referring to the fact that I'd been on the couch this morning.

"Not too good."

"You'll have to take a nap later," she said. She peered around the side of the table at my pajamas.

"What happened?" she asked, pointing to the torn spot.

"Just tripped over my feet," I said vaguely.

"Hmmm," she said.

There was so many conversations going on that I didn't think anyone was listening to us, but I leaned closer, just in

case. "Is Adam mad at me?" I asked her.

Hannah gave me a direct look. "I don't think he is, no."

"I guess I mucked things up with him last night."

"I'd say so," she said, with all the honesty of an older sister.

"I thought I'd try to talk to him," I volunteered, watching for her reaction.

"That would be good," she said, still sounding a little curt. Then she looked at me, and her expression softened a little.

"You hurt his feelings, Harlie."

I'd seen that myself, in Adam's face, but hearing Hannah say it made my stomach feel all weird.

I took a glance down towards Adam's end of the table. He was listening to Ford, and eating his breakfast. He looked just

like he usually did. Maybe a little tired, but that was all.

I finished my breakfast in miserable silence. Afterwards, I went up to get dressed, and then I had to do the dishes,

mostly by myself, because Isaac was so fussy that Hannah took him upstairs to try and rock him.

After I'd done the dishes, and wiped off the table and the counters, I went into the living room. The house was quiet.

I sat down at Crane's desk, sorting thru the cubbyholes, until my fingers closed around the envelope. I took it out and then

pulled the keys out, too. I held the key for a few minutes. This must be an extra set. The keys I'd always seen Doc G use hada worn, yellow rabbit's foot attached to them. I put the key back into a cubbyhole, and held the envelope again, turning it over.

It didn't seem very fat, really. It must be a short letter. One page, maybe.

I sighed and got up, pushing in the chair. I went to get a jacket, and pulled it on. I tucked the envelope into the

pocket of the jacket, and pulled on my boots, going outside.

I saw that the Jeep had been moved, and for a minute I thought I'd waited too long, and that maybe Adam

was already gone out on the ranch somewhere. Maybe I'd missed him. He could be gone for hours. Then I heard the

Jeep's engine and Adam drove it back around to the front of the barn. I took a deep breath in relief. I headed down

the steps and across the yard. Adam climbed out and went back into the barn, coming back out carrying a sack of range

cubes over his shoulder.

He turned from depositing the sack into the back seat of the Jeep, and saw me standing there.

"Morning," he said.

"Good morning."

I hesitated, and then said, "Are you getting ready to head out?"

"Yeah. Gettin' a late start this morning."

If I'd felt better, I would have smiled at that. Only Adam would think that 7:15 in the morning was a 'late start'.

"Can I come along with you?" I asked him. I lifted the flap of my jacket to show the envelope peeking out. "I thought

I should read the letter."

"Alright."

After I'd climbed into the passenger side of the Jeep, and Adam got in behind the steering wheel, I knew that I needed to

say it, before the wind started rushing past, and it would be too noisy to talk until we stopped again.

"I'm sorry about last night," I said.

Adam turned to look at me. He looked serious, but his eyes were full of kindness and concern.

"I was being stubborn, just like you said. Being all snarky," I admitted.

"It's alright," he said, and I thought how good he was, and decent. Ford had pegged it right last night.

If you went to Adam and apologized, and tried to right your wrongs, he was quick to forgive.

"I didn't mean what I said, about not wanting to talk to you. I like talking to you," I continued. Then in an attempt at

humor, I added, "Mostly."

"I like talking to you, too." Then, he too, added, "Mostly."

I met his eye, and then felt my emotions crumbling. "I don't want to hurt your feelings, Adam. Not ever."

"Okay. Let's forget about it. It's over."

"Okay," I said, and then he started driving towards the pasture gate, and the wind started rushing past.

7


	44. Love in the written word

Adam and I fed the range cubes together. I offered to jump out whenever there was a gate to go thru. It seems like

I've been doing that most of my life, either opening a gate, or closing it.

Once we were driving, the sunshine seemed to get stronger, and the air was warmer.

At the last feeding stop, when we were done and back in the Jeep, Adam reached onto the floorboard of the back seat,

and picked up a thermos. He poured some coffee into the thermos cup and drank it down.

"Want a cup?" he asked me.

"Yes. Please," I told him. I was beginning to feel the affects of my night of little sleep.

Adam handed the thermos off to me, and I poured myself some of the steaming coffee.

I pointed to the old Oak, where the remnants of our treehouse remain.

"Did you know that Guthrie wants to fix up the treehouse for Isaac?" I asked.

"Does he? Well, that'll be good for Scooter, when the time comes."

I drained my cup, and held out the thermos. "Want some more?" I offered.

"Not right now."

We sat there watching the cattle milling around the Jeep.

I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the envelope, looking at it with mixed feelings. In a way I wanted to read it.

I wanted to see what Doc G had wanted to say to me. Yet, another part of me was extremely reluctant. By opening it,

and seeing his handwriting, the words he'd written specifically for me, it would be like opening a wound.

I remembered then what Brian had told me. How the pain from someone's death is like a wound, and how remembering

them sometimes is like having the wound ripped open.

Still, I knew that I needed to read the letter. Sooner rather than later. I needed to know what, if anything, that Doc G

had wanted me to do. Or to know.

"Can we read it now?" I asked Adam, looking up at him.

Adam nodded. "Yeah."

"Should I read it first? Or should I read it out loud?" I asked, feeling my heart pounding with nerves.

"However you want to do it," Adam said, his voice steady and comforting.

I bit at my lip, considering.

Then I slid my finger under the flap on the back of the envelope. I took out the paper inside. One piece, like I'd thought.

I looked at Adam once more, and he gave me just the slightest of nods.

I unfolded the paper, and saw Doc G's spidery handwriting. And I began to read, silently, to myself.

"My dearest lass,

The Good Lord has a way of deciding where a body is needed. And, while I wouldn't have minded more

time, I'm ready to see the hills of Heaven. I'm hoping they resemble the bonny green hills of Ireland.

You've been given many talents, Harlie Mac. Use them. You'll meet many types of people if you follow the field

of veterinary medicine. Some of those folks will be kind and grateful. Others, not so kind. Whichever they are,

your ability to relieve their sadness and the suffering of their animals will be a wonderful gift.

If you change your mind about veterinary school, I'm confident that you will find the niche and career path

that's right for you.

If you'd take all the critters on, I'd be appreciative. Homes for Pearl and Brutus shouldn't be difficult to find. I'll leave

that to you. Captain Jack might take a bit more doing to find an appropriate home, given his contrary nature. As for

Charlie and old Clarence, I'll hope that, if you can, you'll give them both a home yourself. The three of us have traveled

many hours and many miles together, and I find myself feeling easier knowing that you'll be the one they travel

their last few miles with.

It's been one of the true joys of my life to know you, Harlie Mac. I hope you remember that I

think you're a fine person. One of the best I've ever known. If I'd been fortunate enough to have had a daughter,

I'd have wanted her to be just as you are.

Drive the truck with care. No crossing of the high water of Sugar Creek. And though you may be feeling

low now, remember that once you're ready, it's alright to have fun and enjoy the drive.

All my love,

Doc G"

7

My eyes, which had begun to tear up as I began to read, were now, by the time I finished, completely full.

I handed the note to Adam, and looked straight ahead, focusing on the old Oak. After a few moments of silence

as Adam read, he folded the letter and put it back into the envelope.

"I really loved him, Adam," I said.

"I know." He sighed, and then reached out to pull me into the circle of his arms. "Let it out, sugar."

"I'm tired of crying," I said, trying to resist bursting into all-out tears.

"Let it go now, and maybe you won't have to cry so much after this," he said.

So I cried, not great heaving sobs like I had when I'd first heard about Doc G dying, but a steady, quieter

crying.

Since there weren't any tissues in the Jeep, and Adam didn't have a handkerchief with him, I used my sleeve to

wipe my eyes and face.

We drove back to the house, and once he'd parked, Adam picked the envelope up from the space where it was laying.

"I'd hang onto this if I was you, sugar. There might be times thru the years that you want to read it over again."

I looked at the envelope, and then up at Adam. My eyes were puffy feeling, but I'd stopped crying.

"Will you keep it for me?" I asked him.

Adam nodded, and tucked the envelope into his shirt pocket. "I'll put it in Hannah's jewelry box," he said.

"What's on your agenda for the rest of the day?" he asked, looking at me expectantly.

"Charlie, Brutus, Pearl, and Captain Jack," I said.

7

When we got back to the house, the boys were using the tractor to put a fresh bale of hay in the feedlot. Adam

went inside to see Hannah and Isaac, as was becoming his custom whenever he had a break between chores.

I went to climb up on the fence, resting my arms on the top, watching Evan and Ford and Guthrie. After Evan had

dropped the bale mover to the ground, and the bale was off, Guthrie stepped onto the spear of the bale mover, and

Evan raised it up, while Guthrie hung on.

Not the safest thing in the world, but living on a ranch has it's own benefits and fun. When the tractor

had been parked back in its customary spot, and Guthrie had leaped to the ground unharmed, the three of them

started walking in my direction.

"Hey, what are you guys going to do now?" I asked them.

"Who wants to know?" Evan asked, and Ford joined in.

"Yeah," he said. "Who wants to know?"

"I do. I need a favor."

"You always need a favor," Evan said, but I knew he was joking.

"Please," I said. "I'll make cookies for you."

"Lemon bars?" Ford asked me. "Those last ones you made were pretty good."

"Yes. Lemon bars," I promised.

"What's the favor?" Evan asked.

"I need one of you to pull the trailer over to Doc G's place, so I can bring Charlie home. And the dogs."

At the mention of Doc G, and not a silly favor, the three of them turned serious.

"He wanted you to take the animals?" Ford asked.

I nodded.

They exchanged looks, and then Evan said, "Well, sure. After lunch okay with you?"

"Yes. Thanks, Ev."

"I'll go along and help," Ford offered.

Guthrie said he would head into town to the vet office, and feed the two dogs that were left from our dog rescue.

I hesitated, looking at Guthrie. "I'll bet there's a layer of dust on everything at the office, huh?" I knew from experience how dusty things could get, if I didn't dust every Saturday.

Guthrie shrugged. "I guess so." He patted my shoulder. "Don't worry about it."

I nodded. Someday soon maybe I would be able to go into the office, but not today. I knew I had enough to deal with. Reading Doc G's note, and then fetching the animals home was going to be enough emotional upheaval for the day.

I went to do my outside chores, tending the goats, and then sat down on the front porch steps, spending some time with

Clarence and Warrior. Warrior, while not aggressive or mean to Clarence at all, was jealous of the attention that I gave to

him. He put himself in my lap, and nudged my hand away from Clarence and back onto his own head.

I kept thinking about the letter that Doc G had written to me.

Daniel came walking up the driveway, his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

"Hey, brat," he greeted me, sitting down on the top step beside me.

"Hey."

"What's new?"

"After lunch I'm going over to Doc G's house. To bring home the dogs and his old horse. And Captain Jack."

"The man eating parrot," Daniel said.

"Yeah." I turned so that I was facing him, removing Warrior from my lap. "What were you doing? Just walking?"

"Yeah. Just takin' a walk. Thinking some things thru."

I looked at him curiously. He looked solemn. Serious.

"Is something wrong?" I asked him.

"No. Not wrong."

After surveying him for another moment, I said, "You have to leave soon, don't you?"

"In a few days."

"I knew it," I said, with a sigh. "You always get thoughtful and melancholy when it's time to go."

"Oh, I do, huh?" he said, sticking his elbow in my ribs.

"You can't fool me."

"No," he said, giving me a long look. "I guess I can't."

"It really sucks," I said.

"I have to get back to work. squirt. I've been here almost three weeks-"

"I know. It still sucks."

"How about we do somethin' together tonight?" Daniel asked, changing the subject. "Or do you have a date?"

"I don't have a date. How about you?"

"Nope. No date," Daniel said, with a grin.

"Who was your date with last night?" I asked.

"A girl."

"Funnnny," I told him. "Really, who was it with?"

"None of your business, squirt," Daniel said, tapping my nose with his finger.

"Not fair. Why is who I go out with your business, but who you go out with not my business?"

"Ah," Daniel said, tapping my nose again. "Rule number eight in the older brother's handbook-"

"Yeah, yeah," I said, slapping his hand away, and giggling a little. "Whatever."

Daniel wrapped an arm around my neck. "It's good to see you smile," he said.

7

As we were finishing up with lunch, Evan helped himself to a second piece of apple pie, and, as I was pushing in my

chair, he said, "Hey, shortcake," and when I looked across the table at him, he dug in his pocket and tossed

his keys to me.

"Go on and get backed up to the trailer," he told me.

I tried not to look smug at this significant occurrence. He was trusting me with his truck. Only thru the pasture, true. But, still note-worthy, I felt.

I pulled on my jacket, and went out, starting Evan's truck, and pulling it around to the pasture gate. I hopped out to open the gate, and then, by the time I'd driven thru, Ford was there behind me, to shut it again. He was my 'spotter', and motioned me back, as I backed up to the trailer.

Finally, when Ford made the hand wave that is known across the board for 'that's good', I stopped, and got out, going behind the truck, and helping him hook the trailer hitch to the truck.

When Evan came out, we were on our way. I was thinking my own thoughts, mostly about who I knew who might

be wiling to take on a sweetheart like Pearl, or an ornery pup like Brutus.

I saw the sign in the yard even before we were to Doc G's driveway. A realtor's sign. Proclaiming that

Doc G's house was for sale.

There was, in fact, a man still in the yard, pounding the sign into the ground with a mallet.

"Wow," Evan said, low, under his breath, as he pulled the truck to a stop.

"Yeah," I echoed.

Ford hopped out, and began directing Evan to back up to the corral, where old Charlie stood, watching, as if he'd

been waiting on us.

I scooted over to the other side of the seat where Ford had been sitting, as Evan backed up. I was still watching the

the guy in the three-piece suit hammer down the sign.

As he glanced back at Ford, Evan gave me a quick glance. "You okay?" he asked.

I nodded.

Evan looked unconvinced, but he didn't pursue the subject.

As I got out, and came around to Evan's side of the truck, the suited man was heading our way.

"Is there something I can do for you?" he asked. There was an edge to his voice.

Evan spoke up before I could. "No, thanks. We're just here to pick up some animals."

"I see," said suit man, the look on his face stating quite plainly that he did not see at all, what we were doing

there.

"I wasn't alerted about anyone coming here for animals," suit man said, looking Evan and I up and down. When Ford

stepped up to the side, he gave Ford the once-over, too.

"No reason that you would have been alerted," Evan said, his tone even, but not particularly friendly. He put a hand

on my back and started to propel me towards the corral gate, from where old Charlie stood whinnying.

"We're going to be showing this property to potential buyers," suit man said. "We can't be having stock trailers

driving thru here, causing ruts in the yard."

Evan stopped walking, and turned back. "We won't be causing any ruts in the yard. We won't be driving in the yard.

We're just here to pick up two dogs, a horse, and a parrot, and then we'll be out of your way."

"I will say that I'm relieved that you're here to pick up that black dog. I was going to call animal control when I got

back to the office," suit man said.

I turned a horrified look at him. "Why would you call animal control?"

"That dog is vicious. He needs to be put down."

"Brutus isn't vicious," I protested indignantly. "If he barked at you, it's because he didn't know you. He's just

trying to protect the house."

"He did more than bark. He growled at me. He's shut on the back porch with that bird."

"Captain Jack can't be on the back porch!" I said. "There's no heat out there. He's a Macaw. He has to

be warm or he'll get sick!"

"Well, it's fortunate that you're here to retrieve him, then," suit man said, sounding condescending.

I was opening my mouth, winding up to tell him what I thought, when Ford said quickly, "Come on, Har." He

gave me a push forward, and the three of us went over to the corral gate. Evan opened the trailer door, and lowered the

ramp, as I held the door and kept it from swinging shut.

Watching the realtor covertly, I saw that he'd laid the hammer on the ground, and was now up on the front porch,

going inside. Even from where we were, I could hear Brutus and Pearl barking.

"Well, bat shit," I muttered, and released my hold on the trailer door, staring at the house.

I started towards the house, when I heard Ford say, "Where are you goin'?" at the same time that I heard

Evan say, "Hey!" in protest.

I stopped to turn around.

"What's the deal with lettin' the door slam into me?" Evan demanded.

"I'm sorry." I pointed towards the house. "I'm going inside."

Evan reached up to fasten the door so that it stayed open. "Just wait," he said.

"He went inside!" I hissed.

"It's alright."

"But the dogs are barking-and I need to get Captain Jack off the porch-"

"We'll get him. Let's get Charlie loaded first."

"You and Ford can do that," I said, my attention again turned towards the house.

"We could," Evan said in agreement. "But I want you to wait for us to go inside with you."

"How come?" I protested, frowning at him. "I'm not afraid of that dumbass-"

"I didn't say you were. I just want you to wait. That's all."

"Oh, for gosh sakes," I grumbled.

"Go on and bring Charlie out," Evan told me.

I thought about arguing. I really did. There was a time, not too long ago, that I would have. But I've learned

that arguing with Evan can have unpleasant consequences. I didn't think this was one of those times, but still-it

was best to just do as he said.

I went to take the halter hanging from the fence, and went inside the corral, slipping it onto Charlie.

I pressed my face against his neck. "Hello, old boy," I told him.

Charlie loaded like a charm, quickly. He began to munch on the hay that Evan had thrown into the trailer, seeming

perfectly content.

Evan and Ford closed the trailer door. I walked halfway to the house, but then I stopped and waited for them

to catch up to me.

We walked up the front steps, and I followed Ford inside. The realtor was walking thru the house, snapping

pictures with a camera that looked similar to Crane's Nikon. The barking only intensified as we walked towards the

back porch.

After Brutus and Pearl saw that it was us, they calmed down, with all three of us petting them and talking quietly. An

expandable gate, one of those kind that people use to keep their babies in one area, was across the doorway leading

to the back porch. Ford loosened the hinges and the dogs rushed out, jumping on us with joy.

Completely in one corner of the porch, nearest a drafty window, was Captain's Jack's cage, sitting on the floor.

He began to squawk. "Butter the bread! Hello, Doc!"

I went over and started to lift the cage, but since it's one of those really huge ones, it's heavy, and so I was

staggering a little with the weight.

"Here," Ford said, coming to take over. "I've got it." He lifted the cage with apparent ease, and then looked

around the porch.

"Maybe you'd better get a blanket or somethin' to put over the cage," he suggested. "It might calm him down, and warm him up a little, too."

"Yeah. Okay," I said, and went thru the living room towards the hall closet, where I knew the extra blankets were

at.

I'd passed Mr. Suit man on my way down the hall, and he came to a stop, watching me as I opened

the closet doors.

"Is there something you need, young lady?" he asked, again in that tone that suggested he was talking

to a poor relation, and one that wasn't too smart, either.

I bit my lip, and kept searching thru the sheets, looking for a wool blanket, not responding.

"I asked if-"

"I heard you," I said, snapping the door shut, heavy wool blanket in my hand.

Mr. Suit Man looked startled by my tone.

I turned to face him. "I've been here plenty of times," I said. "And I know where things are. I don't need any

help from you."

"Just who are you, anyway?" he asked.

"I'm Harlie McFadden."

"Is that supposed to mean something?" he asked.

I walked past him, muttering 'jerk' under my breath.

He in turn, said something about disrespect.

I think I would have said something more to him, even though I knew I shouldn't. But Ford was there, at the

end of the hall, his arms around Captain Jack's cage. Captain Jack, meanwhile, was squawking and flapping, to

show his distress.

"Harlie," Ford said, and when I looked from Suit Man to him, Ford inclined his head in the direction of the living

room. "Let's head out," he said.

I glared at the man. Well, maybe not a glare exactly.

The man directed his question to Ford, and to Evan, who was by now standing behind Ford, Pearl and Brutus by his

side.

"Do you have everything you need?" he asked the boys. "We'll be starting to show the house, so the less traffic in the

house is for the better."

"We should be finished today," Evan said. "We just need to gather up a few more things, supplies for the animals, things

like that."

"Alright. Fine."

I followed the boys outside. At the side of the truck Ford waited for me to open the door, and he sat the cage inside. Then he took the blanket from me and put it over the cage.

"Let's grab the dog food," Evan said, and he and Ford went toward the barn, both of them slinging sacks of unopened

dog food over their shoulders. The realtor came out of the house, and began snapping pictures of the outside of the house, and I leaned against the truck, watching him.

He glanced my way, and I felt the childish urge to stick out my tongue at him. I did not, of course, act on that urge.

When the boys came back, the put the two sacks in the bed of the pickup.

"Anything else you can think of?" Evan asked me.

"There's still some dog food inside, isn't there?" I asked. "An open sack?"

"Yeah. There is," Ford said.

"We should get it," I said. "And Captain Jack's food, too."

"I'll grab it," Ford said, and went back up the front steps and inside.

Evan and I stood there, watching as Suit Man continued to walk around, taking pictures.

"Stupid jerk," I said.

"The man's just doin' his job, shortcake."

"He's an ass, Ev!"

"Well, he's not any too pleasant. I'll go along with that."

"He acted like I was going to steal something from the closet!"

"Yeah." Evan leaned against the door of the truck. "Well, you meet all kinds."

"He needs to be punched in the nose," I said.

"Temper, temper," Evan said, trying to joke with me. We watched the man go back inside the house yet again.

As my eyes lit on the shiny black truck parked to the side of the house, a sudden thought occurred to me.

"What about the truck?" I asked.

"Huh?"

I pointed. "The truck. Maybe I shouldn't leave it here. "

"Well," Evan considered. "Maybe not. With all the people that might be comin' in and out around here, looking over the

property. Where's the key?"

"The one the lawyer gave me is at home, on Crane's desk. I don't know where the one that Doc G used is at."

As Ford came back down the steps, carrying a bag of half-empty dog food in one hand and a bird food container in the other,

Evan looked like he was considering.

"I'll go inside and look for the other set of keys," I said, as Ford came up beside us.

"No, you don't," Evan said, snatching onto the back of my jacket with one hand.

I gave him an accusing look, and he shook his head. "You just want to go back in there so you can rowdy it down with

the Suit."

"Well, what about the truck?" I demanded.

"We'll go home and get the keys. Come back over then, or see what the guys think we should do."

"Fine," I said, giving in, though not particularly graciously.

7


	45. Two boys and their donkey

It was crowded in the truck cab going home, what with the three of us, two dogs, and the big bird cage, which Ford held on his lap during the ride.

When Ford uncovered the cage, Evan protested, "Don't do that. That darn bird gives me a headache with all that squawking."

"He'll be alright now," Ford said, and began talking quietly to Captain Jack, who cocked his head at Ford's voice, and

said, "Say Hello!" and then was quiet, sitting on his perch.

I held Pearl on my lap, while Brutus sat at Ford's feet.

"You know why you got so mad at that realtor guy, don't you?" Evan asked me.

"Sure, I know. Because he was a prime example of an arrogant ass-"

"Besides that. The real reason. I'm bein' serious."

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"It's because you don't want to think about anybody else living in Doc G's house," Evan said, looking at me

sadly.

I stared at Evan, and then I buried my face in Pearl's fur.

"It's hard," he went on. "But maybe a family with a bunch of kids will buy it. That'd be nice."

"So now you're a psychiatrist, getting inside my mind," I said. "Evan McFadden, PHD."

"Don't be like that," Evan said. "I didn't mean to upset you."

When I avoided his eye, and didn't say anything, he nudged my leg. "Come on. Don't be mad at me."

"I'm not mad." I turned my face to look at him "And you're right."

7

When we got home, we let the dogs out of the truck first, and before we could do anything else,

a fight broke out between Jethro and Brutus. The ensuing chaos brought brothers from various locations.

Guthrie broke up the altercation, grabbing onto Jethro's collar, and dragging him off. Brutus, who'd gotten

the worst end of the fight, sat in the driveway, panting hard.

"I think we're gonna have a problem there," Brian said, as everybody stood there, watching Brutus panting, and

Guthrie reassuring Jethro.

"It's not really Brutus's fault," I said. "He remembers being here before he went to live with Doc G. He probably

still thinks it's his home."

"Well, it's not Jethro's fault, either," Guthrie protested, walking back over to the group, Jethro following

along behind, looking ashamed.

"Let 'em get used to each other," Adam said, as Jethro and Brutus sniffed at each other warily.

When it looked as though there would be no more dogfights, everybody walked to the back of the

trailer, watching as Evan unhooked the doors, and lowered the ramps. Charlie came out without anybody

even having to lead him out, walking down the ramp, snorting horse breath on all of us.

"I'll be damned," Crane said. "I've never seen a horse do that before."

I hooked my fingers thru Charlie's halter. "Charlie's special," I said, feeling as proud of him as if I'd been

the one to teach him the trick.

"He'll just follow you around like a dog," I shared. "He doesn't even have to be behind a fence. He can just

hang out free, in the yard."

"Well, let's not tempt him right now," Brian said. "He better do his hangin' out with the other horses, behind

the corral fence."

Ford took the bird cage from the truck seat, and covered it with the blanket, carrying it

inside the house.

Evan began telling the others about the realtor being at Doc G's house. I let Evan talk at

first, telling that the man didn't want people coming in and out of the driveway, due to the

property needing to be shown to buyers.

"He was going to call animal control on Brutus!" I threw in indignantly.

As Evan started to talk again, I talked over him, "And he put Captain Jack on the porch

where there's no heat! Dumbass!"

"You're sure stirred up," Crane observed, as he and the others all looked at me.

"Well, yeah. He was rude and obnoxious," I defended myself.

"I think our miniature Mike Tyson here would have taken the man down if she'd had half a chance,"

Evan volunteered. I knew he was teasing, but I muttered, "You should have let me."

"It might be a good thing to get the truck moved fairly soon," Evan suggested.

"Yeah," Adam said, with a nod. "Sounds right to me."

He told me to go inside and get the keys from the desk, and so I ran inside, nearly tripping

over Clarence, who'd started down the stairs to greet Pearl and Brutus. I grabbed the keys

and started running back out, rushing past Hannah, who was coming down the stairs, with

the baby in her arms.

"What's going on?" she asked me.

"We're going to pick up the truck!" I called back, continuing on my run out the door.

Adam told me to get into the Jeep, and after some discussion, it was decided that he

and Brian would drive back over to the house.

"I know you're anxious to drive the truck, sugar," Adam told me, as he and Brian

were climbing into the Jeep. "But the insurance and all of that hasn't been taken care of yet. I'd

rather you waited. Brian or I will drive it back here."

"Okay," I said. I was disappointed, but I knew there was no point to arguing.

Brian had made me switch places so that he could sit in the front with Adam, and stretch his

legs out. So I sat in the back, with my knees pressed up.

"When can I drive it?" I asked, leaning forward so they could hear me.

"I'll try to get the insurance straightened out next week sometime," Adam said.

It didn't sound like much of a promise to me, but again, I didn't speak my mind.

"What are you goin' to do with the El Camino?" Brian asked, turning so I could catch

his words over the wind.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You don't need two vehicles, do you?" he pointed out.

I hadn't thought about that. I considered his question.

"No, I guess not."

"Daniel's put a lot of work in on that car," Adam said.

"Yeah. He has," I agreed. I felt a little bad, suddenly. And not just about Daniel. But Evan, Ford and

Guthrie had bought me the car as a birthday present. It would be kind of rude, and possibly

hurtful to them if I acted as if the car wasn't good enough, now that I had a nicer, running

vehicle.

I twisted my knees so that I could completely lean against the front seats, in order to

communicate easier.

"I don't want the boys to feel bad," I said.

I thought for a minute, and then said, "What do you guys think?"

"I'd say the El Camino should go, before any more money and time get put into it," Brian

said. "The truck's definitely safer for you, anyway."

"Agreed," Adam said.

"But it will hurt their feelings," I protested. "If I act like I'm too good for the car."

"Who says you'd act that way?" Brian asked. "It's just common sense. They've all

got enough brains to understand you can't afford to keep insurance and car tags on two

vehicles."

Yet another thing that I hadn't considered. Insurance. Car tags. It was complicated

being the owner of a vehicle. Or more than one vehicle.

"How much will insurance be on the truck, do you think?" I asked. I was thinking of the

money I had saved. I still owed Daniel for the parts he'd bought for the El Camino, too.

"Probably should figure on fifty or so," Adam said.

"A month?" I asked, shocked.

"Well," he said, looking at me in the rearview mirror, "it's just an estimate. Since none

of our vehicles are as new as the truck, I don't know for certain."

"So the newer a vehicle is, the more the insurance is?" I asked.

"Yep," Brian said.

"Well, I could have just liability on the truck," I suggested. I'd learned a little

about what liability insurance was after my mishap with Evan's truck, and I knew

that was cheaper somehow.

"Nope," Adam said, effectively shooting that suggestion down. "You'll need full coverage

on anything you drive."

"Why?" I asked. "Evan just has liability, doesn't he?"

"You're an inexperienced driver, Harlie," Adam said, looking in the mirror at me again. "You'll

need the protection that full coverage gives."

"Not to mention the protection needed for the other drivers out in the world," Brian

quipped.

"Funny man," I muttered, thinking.

"Does Guthrie have full coverage?" I asked.

"Until he's eighteen, and then he can do what he wants," Adam said.

Well, at least the rules were the same for both Guthrie and I. I settled back in my

seat, thinking, for the rest of the ride. My savings from my job with Doc G wouldn't

last forever. And now I didn't have the certainty of a regular job income, either. Unless

I got another job somewhere. I started thinking about that, but I stopped. It hurt to think

about not working alongside Doc G any more. I was going to miss that.

When we got to the house, the realtor's car was still parked in the same spot it

had been.

"He's still here," I said. We all three got out, and Adam took the keys from me, unlocking

the truck door, and then sitting in the driver's seat, and starting the engine.

I leaned in beside him, but then I smelled the familiar smell of the cab. Peppermint,

from the mints that Doc G liked to eat. I stepped back, suddenly overcome by feelings.

How many happy hours I'd spent riding with Doc G in here!

Brian looked at me perceptively. "Alright?" he asked me.

I nodded wordlessly.

As we stood there, the front door of the house opened, and the realtor stepped out.

He wasted no time in heading our way.

"Here comes dumbass," I said.

When he saw that it was me standing there, he did not look particularly pleased.

"Forget something?" he asked.

"No," I said shortly. "Did you?"

"Harlie," Adam said, in disapproval. He turned towards the other man.

"Adam McFadden," he said, and held out his hand.

To my surprise, the realtor extended his hand to Adam. "Jacob Weitman. I'm the

listing agent for the property here."

Adam nodded in response, and gestured to Brian. "My brother, Brian."

As Brian and the other man shook hands as well, Adam said, "We're here

to pick the truck up. And then we'll be out of your way."

"That's fine. No problem. My supervisor mentioned someone would be coming

for it."

I couldn't believe my ears! Fine? No problem? Why was he acting so nice all of a

sudden? I rolled my eyes.

After the realtor had walked back to the house, Adam looked at me. "Riding with me?" he asked.

I'd planned on doing just that, but I decided that I wanted my first time getting back in

the truck to be on my own. I'd discovered, after the smell of the peppermint, that it was

going to be more emotional than I'd thought.

I shook my head. "I'll ride with Brian," I said.

On the way home, sitting beside Brian, I said, a little sullenly, "That guy sure played a

new face with you and Adam."

"Yeah?" Brian said, looking at me questioningly.

"He was a real ass to Evan and Ford and me. He treated me like I was a thief. Like I

was going to steal something from the closet, where the blankets and stuff are. And he

had no right to put Captain Jack on the porch like he did!"

"The man's just doin' his job, kiddo," Brian said mildly.

"That's what Evan said, too. And yes, if his job is being a son of a bitch, then I guess

he's doing real well at it!"

For a moment Brian was silent, and then he reached over, and laid a hand on my knee,

squeezing it. "What are you so pissed off about, peach?"

I looked at him, ready to deny that I was, but then, before I could, he added, "Or do

you even know why?"

I looked away, back towards the road ahead of us. "I guess I don't know," I admitted,

my eyes filling with tears.

"Remember what I told you? About the wound getting ripped open, and then

eventually healing over?" he asked.

"I remember."

He squeezed my knee again, and we drove on in silence.

7

Later, Daniel found me in the kitchen, where I was checking my blood sugar level.

"What's doin', squirt?" he asked.

"Not much," I said.

"So where you wanna go tonight?" he asked.

"Could we go to Stockton? To the mall?"

"Ugh," Daniel groaned, looking less than thrilled. "Well, okay, if that's what you want."

"Not to shop for clothes or anything like that," I reassured him. "Remember, there's that

store there that sells metal things? That's where I want to go."

"What's there?"

"I just want to look. Hannah gave me an idea. I'd like to see if I can find something

for Doc G's grave."

Daniel nodded. "Okay."

After Daniel and I drove to Stockton, we went to eat at a Chinese restaurant. I knew that was

for my benefit, because Daniel would have much rather had a steak or a hamburger.

"Thanks for letting me have Chinese," I told him, as we walked out of the restaurant.

"You're welcome," he said, and then launched into an exaggerated monologue. "Whatever

it takes to make you happy, even when it's at great inconvenience and unpleasantness to

myself-"

"Yeah, yeah," I said, giving him a playful shove.

Daniel made a mock boxing jab at me, and then took my hand.

He looked serious all of a sudden, and I felt him squeeze my hand.

"You gonna be alright?" he asked me. "I mean, I hate to think about leaving, what

with Scooter being here now and all. But I really worry about you."

"I'll be alright, Daniel. You don't have to worry about me."

We were at the door of the truck by now, and Daniel rolled his eyes heavenward.

"That's like telling the grass not to grow. Not gonna happen. I'll always worry about you.

Just accept it."

I leaned against the truck and looked up at him. Daniel's not really that much taller

than I am. So it's not like looking up at Adam, or Crane.

I suddenly felt very protective and close to him. I patted his cheek.

"I worry about you, too, you know," I reminded him. "Some weird groupie girl is

likely to take advantage of you."

I was joking with him, but Daniel didn't lose his serious face. "I mean it. I know how bad you're

hurting."

Before I could answer, or even really think of a response, Daniel gave me a nudge.

"Let's get goin'," he said.

At the mall we went to the store with the metal decorations. Daniel and I went our

separate ways, both of us wandering around looking at things.

I saw a couple of dog cut-outs, one that looked a lot like Clarence. I stood looking at it

for awhile, considering. I picked it up, thinking that it would be what I chose to put beside

Doc G's grave. Then, as I was hunting for Daniel, that's when I saw it. The moment that I did,

my heart kind of fluttered a little, hopeful that once I got closer, it would look just as good.

Still holding onto the Clarence look-alike, I went over to stand beside it. It was pretty tall, about

two feet high. It was a metal cut-out of two boys with a donkey. They were both wearing overalls,

and petting the donkey. It looked like they were beside a creek, or a lake.

I remembered Doc G's story about he and his brother, and their donkey. The one

their father had traded to a neighbor for some whiskey.

I knew then that this was it. The perfect thing to put beside Doc G's gravestone. The perfect

thing to honor him. What better than two boys and their beloved donkey? Doc G would

like it. I knew he would. I checked the price. It was twice as much as the Clarence cut-out.

I had enough money with me, but it would cut seriously into my savings. And now I had no job income,

and truck insurance and all of that. But after just another moment's thought, I knew that it

was worth it. I put the metal Clarence back where I'd gotten it, and went to find Daniel

so that we could check out.

I showed it to Daniel proudly, telling him the story about Doc G and his donkey.

"I just need to put a stake on it somehow, so that it can be stuck into the ground beside

the gravestone," I said.

"Well, I'm no great shakes at welding, but I can do it, or Evan can. He's pretty good at

it," Daniel said.

On the way home, Daniel and I sang along to the radio. Once we were home, and he'd parked the truck

and turned off the headlights, we sat in the dark cab for a few minutes.

"Thanks for tonight," I said. "I had a good time."

"I did, too."

"I know you're going to worry about me," I said then, seriously. "But I'm trying hard

to be okay."

"I know you are. I'm proud of you."

After that, we talked about other things. Music, and school, and a little bit about Doc G.

7

The next morning, I tried to get out of going to church, by telling Hannah after breakfast that

I had too much to do.

"School starts tomorrow," I reminded her.

"I know school starts tomorrow," she said mildly. "What about it?"

"I've got a lot to do before school starts taking up all my time."

"Such as?" she asked, looking a little amused.

"Just things," I said vaguely.

Hannah turned to start stacking the breakfast dishes again.

"I don't see why you can't go," she objected. "You'll have the rest of the day to do

things."

"I know. It's just that I don't really want to go. It's bad enough that I have to face

school in less than 24 hours."

Hannah turned again to face me, her expression concerned and a little puzzled.

"That makes several times you've talked that way. You like school. What's going

on?"

Unfortunately, Crane chose that moment to make an entrance into the kitchen, going

to the coffee pot to refill the cup he was carrying.

I shook my head very slightly at Hannah, trying to convey to her silently that I didn't

want to involve Crane in our conversation.

Hannah read my silent plea correctly, though she didn't look pleased.

Crane turned around, taking a drink of his coffee, and surveying Hannah and I with

curiousity.

"What's up?" he asked lightly. "You two were talking up a storm before I came in. Did

I interrupt something?"

Hannah looked at me, raising her eyebrows a little. Without speaking a word, her face

quite plainly told me I needed to answer.

"No," I told Crane. "You didn't interrupt anything." I sighed, and gave Hannah a look

of resignation. "Guess I'll get dressed for church," I said.

"Good idea," Hannah said.

7


	46. A humble man

During the church services, installed between Guthrie and Ford, I didn't really pay

attention to the sermon at all. My thoughts were drifting in and out. I was so lost in

thought that when Guthrie gave me a nudge, I was startled.

"Hey, hyena," he whispered. "Time to go."

I looked at him, and then down the rest of the church pew, to see the rest of the

family edging their way out, talking to neighbors and friends.

As I was following Guthrie outside into the weak sunshine, I saw Eddie at a

distance, where he was helping his grandma into her car. He smiled, and waved

at me.

I smiled, too, and waved back, feeling a little jump in my stomach.

"Hey," Daniel spoke from behind me, "what's up with that little wave-wave between

you and Eddie?"

He was teasing me, I knew, because his grin was wide and goofy, but I gave a quick look

around and said, "Shhh. Don't let Evan hear you. He'll have a stroke or something."

"Yeah?" Daniel asked, his grin staying just as wide. "What's in it for me if I keep quiet around

Evan?"

"Keep quiet around me about what?" Evan said, appearing as if from nowhere.

"Nothing," I said. And to Daniel I whispered, "No bake cookies."

At home after lunch, Hannah was reminding Guthrie and I that we needed to get to

bed earlier than we had been, so that we'd be ready to get up for school.

"Must we discuss such an unpleasant subject?" Guthrie said, hamming it up. "I just ate."

Hannah turned from drying her hands on a dishtowel. Since there was just her and Guthrie

and I in the kitchen, she said, "You would probably rest better in your own bed, Guth." She

looked at me, her expression concerned. "Do you think you'd be alright, sweetie, if Guthrie

didn't stay in your room tonight?"

Guthrie and I spoke up at the same time, talking over each other.

I said, "I'll be fine," just as Guthrie said, "I don't mind."

Guthrie and I looked at each other. "I'm serious, Har. It's okay. I don't mind."

"Hannah's probably right," I said slowly. "Sleeping on the floor can't be much fun."

"It's okay, I told you," Guthrie insisted.

"Well, I'll try it tonight alone," I said. Hannah reached out to pat me.

"Okay. But if you have any trouble sleepin', let me know," Guthrie added.

"My hero," I said, giving him a half-smile. And I wasn't joking, either.

Hannah brushed Guthrie's hair away from his forehead, and gave him a fond smile.

"You are a pretty special guy. You know that?" she said.

Guthrie looked a little embarrassed, but he covered it with more comedy.

"About darn time I got some respect around here," he drawled, and picked up an

apple from the table on his way out of the kitchen.

Hannah and I did the dishes, and I was once again lost in my own thoughts.

When Hannah said, "Harlie!" I looked at her, startled.

"Huh?"

"You're a million miles away."

I shrugged. "I guess so. Just thinking about a lot of different things."

"Doc G?"

"Mostly," I admitted.

"Why are you dreading school starting back up?" she asked, changing the subject back

to what we'd been talking about earlier that day.

"I don't know exactly. It just seems like it's going to take so much effort."

"That's nothing new, is it?" she asked, looking puzzled.

"No." I sighed. "It's just I don't know if I can concentrate very well. I keep thinking about

Doc G, and needing another job, and then I feel bad for even thinking about that at all, and

it's just-" I hesitated. "It's just everything, I guess."

"Feeling a little overwhelmed, huh?" she asked me.

"I guess so."

"Well," Hannah said slowly, thoughtfully, "you've been thru a lot in a short time. Maybe you're

stressing over things a little too much. What was it Adam told you? Not to take on anything

you don't have to right now?"

"Yeah. That's what he said." I considered for a minute, wondering if I should confide in

Hannah about what I was thinking.

"I don't know if I should do that college class right now," I said slowly, watching for her

reaction.

"I thought you were pretty set on doing that," Hannah said, looking a little surprised.

"I was. But now, I just-I just wonder if I should wait."

"You don't think you can handle it? Or you're just not excited about it anymore?" she asked.

"A little of both, I guess."

"Well, that's your decision to make, sweetie."

"Not really," I muttered, and she looked at me questioningly.

"What does that mean, 'not really'?" she asked.

"Crane will be mad at me if I don't."

"Why on earth would you think that?" Hannah asked, looking genuinely perplexed.

"Because," I said, feeling emotional, "he already paid for it!"

"Oh, Harlie," Hannah said, draping the wet dishcloth over the faucet. "If that's the

only reason, my goodness. Crane can likely get his money back."

"I don't think there's any refunds," I said.

"Unless things have changed tremendously, he should be able to. Up until the second week of

classes, I think they'll give a refund."

"Oh. I didn't know that." I felt relieved at her words.

"Well, I could be wrong," Hannah clarified. "But you need to talk to him right away about

it, anyway."

"I guess so. But he'll be disappointed in me." Just the thought of that made my stomach

hurt.

"He'll understand."

"Well," I considered. "Okay. I'll talk to him."

"Today, if possible," she said firmly.

7

I went outside, and fed all the dogs, which by all the additions, was quite a big job.

Guthrie and Evan were sitting on the tailgate of Guthrie's truck, and Guthrie was eating

a red Twizzler.

I wandered over to where they sat, and since Brutus had inhaled his share of the dog food,

he tagged along behind me.

"Are you busy, Ev?" I asked.

"Yep. Busy sittin'," he said.

"I'm serious. Could you do something for me?"

"Depends on what it is, I guess."

I told him about the metal cut-out I'd bought the night before, of the two boys and the

donkey. "I'd like to put it beside Doc G's gravestone," I explained. "But it needs something

welded to it so it can be stuck into the ground."

"Let me look at it," he said, and I ran inside and up to my room to get the decoration.

When I came back outside, breathless, I handed it to him. He looked it over, turning

it to look at the back side.

"Yeah. I can probably do it," he said.

"Oh, thanks! Can you do it now?"

"Right now?" he asked, incredulously. "I was gonna take a nap, maybe watch a movie-"

"Please, Evan? I'd really like to take it today." I gave him a pleading look.

Evan sighed, and slid off the tailgate. "Okay," he said. "But you owe me."

"I can make you some cookies," I offered.

"Okay. When?"

"I don't know. Maybe next weekend?"

"Today. You want this done today. I'd like my cookies today."

"Oh, alright," I conceded, and he grinned at me.

"Oatmeal raisin," he said, as he walked away towards the garage where the welder

is set up.

"Dictator," I accused, to his retreating back.

"Extra raisins," he called back, over his shoulder.

7

I went inside and ended up making several kinds of cookies, which turned out to be

a big job. Clare came home from her shift at the hospital. She looked tired, but when she

saw how many different batches of cookies I had going, she scrubbed her hands, and

started helping me.

Eventually, Guthrie wandered in, too. He nosed around the different cookies being

stirred up, and put into the oven.

"No bake, oatmeal raisin, and lemon bars?" he said. "In other words, Daniel, Evan and Ford.

Where's mine at? You know I love peanut butter cookies-"

"I'm not making peanut butter cookies, too," I protested. "Besides, you'll eat any and all

of these that I'm doing, so shush."

We were finishing up, taking the last ones out of the oven to cool, when Evan came in the

back door, holding the metal piece, which now had a long steel stake welded to it.

"How's this?" he asked me.

"It's great," I said, and just as I started to reach out for it, he pulled it back a little.

"Careful, Einstein. It's still hot," he warned me.

"Oh," I said, pulling my hand back to safety. "It looks really good. Thank you."

"I'll set it out back out so it can cool off," he said, opening the back door and leaning it against

the house.

"Can I drive your truck to the cemetery?" I asked Guthrie.

"Yeah. Or do you want me to come along?" he asked.

I thought for a minute. "Yeah. That would be good."

Once the mess of dishes from all that baking were cleaned up, I asked Evan if I could

go get the cut-out.

"Is it cool by now?" I asked.

"Probably okay," he said, grabbing four or five oatmeal raisin cookies.

"Enough raisins?" I asked him.

"Perfect."

I brought it back inside to show the family in the living room where everyone was

sitting around relaxing. Sunday afternoons are really the only time that you will see that

many of us just chilling out, in the middle of the day.

"Oh, sweetie, that's really nice," Hannah said, admiring it.

"Yeah. It is," Adam agreed, looking it over.

I explained the reason behind the two boys and the donkey, telling them the story of Doc G and his

brother, and Elmer, their donkey.

"I think it's a wonderful tribute," Hannah said.

"Like the eagles for your grandpa," I reminded her, and she smiled at me.

As we were going down the front steps, Daniel and Ford were coming up.

"There's cookies in the kitchen for you," I told Daniel. "And lemon bars for you," I told

Ford.

"Whoo hoo," Ford said, with a grin of appreciation.

"We're going to the cemetery," I told them.

"Okay. When you get home, you can take your car for a drive if you want," Daniel said

casually.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Really. Probably not too far since it's not insured. But it's purring like a kitten, and

the tires are okay."

"Wow. That's fantastic," I said, looking towards the barn, where the El Camino was parked.

"Thank you both for all your work on it," I told them, giving them each a hug.

"You're welcome. She's not very pretty, though," Daniel said. "You'll have to find somebody

else to do the body work and paint it."

I was stricken by the sudden thought of what Adam and Brian had told me. The look

on my face was read correctly by my brothers.

"If you keep it, I mean," Daniel said. "You'd want to have it painted then. If you sell it,

then you wouldn't have to. Whoever buys it could do that."

"It's not that I don't want to keep it," I said, looking at all three of them. "But Adam and

Brian said the insurance would be too much for it and the truck, too." I felt really bad

suddenly. And Daniel had put most of the time and money in on the car before any of us knew about me

getting Doc G's truck.

"It's okay," Ford said, putting an arm around my shoulders.

"Yeah. We understand. It's whatever you want to do, Har." Guthrie added.

"But it was a birthday present from you guys," I reminded them, feeling emotional. "And

Daniel, you've spent so much time on it-"

"We said it's okay," Daniel insisted.

"Okay," I said, sighing and trying to pull myself together. "I'll decide later."

I hesitated. "But you guys will go for a ride with me later?"

"We'll be waitin'," Daniel said. Then he took the tender, sweet moment, and ruined it, saying,

with a nudge to Ford's ribs, "We'll have a couple beers to numb the approaching

fear of her driving. Right, Ford?"

I rolled my eyes at them, and said, "Oh, funny."

And they went into the house, laughing like two hyenas.

7

When we pulled into the road that circles around the cemetery, there was only one other car

parked there, and I could see an older couple at a distance.

Guthrie parked the truck and shut off the motor. "Want me to come?" he offered.

"Yeah. In case I need help putting the stake in the ground."

"Okay." Guthrie grabbed a hammer out of the tool box in the back of his truck.

We got out and walked slowly towards the area of Doc G's gravestone. Since the grave

was so fresh, the dirt hadn't had time to settle yet.

"How long does it take for the mound of dirt to go down?" I asked Guthrie.

"I don't know."

I waited while Guthrie pushed the stake into the ground, and then hammered it

in further. We stood there looking at it, until finally Guthrie broke the silence.

"It looks good," he said.

"Yeah." I brushed some dirt off the top of the gravestone.

"Garrett Lee O'Brien, 1930-1987," I read out loud. My voice seemed to lift into

the air, taking my words with it.

"It's such a simple stone," I said.

Guthrie looked at me, not understanding. "What's wrong with that?" he asked.

"Nothing. It's just-it should say something special on it. Like: husband of Truly; healer

of animals; beloved-beloved friend," I said, my voice breaking on a sob.

Guthrie wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me against his chest.

"I guess it should say that stuff," he agreed.

"It doesn't say it because-" I hesitated, swiping tears off my face, "because he

did all his funeral planning himself. The only thing they added was the 1987 death date. He

wouldn't have said any of that stuff about himself. He was," I paused, trying to think of

the right words. "He was humble. He didn't like attention on himself."

Guthrie patted my back, not saying anything.

After a couple of minutes, I knelt in front of the stone, brushing some more dirt and

leaves off of it.

"You wanna be alone for a minute?" Guthrie asked me. "I can wait in the truck."

"Yeah. Thanks," I told him. As Guthrie was walking away, I said, "Guth?"

"Yeah?" he asked, pausing to look back at me.

"Maybe someday, if I finish college and vet school, and I have enough money, well, maybe

I might have that engraved on his stone. You know, 'healer of animals' and the other stuff."

In a quiet voice, Guthrie answered me, "I think that would be a real fine thing, Har."

I nodded. "I'll be there in a minute," I told him, and he walked on to the truck.

When I was alone there, in front of the headstone, I let my fingers trace over the

engraving of his name. And then I began to talk. Talk as if Doc G were sitting there beside

me.

"Thank you. For giving me the money for school. And for the truck, too. I was real

surprised." I hesitated. "Irene sang so beautifully at your-" I stumbled over the word.

"At your funeral." I thought again for a moment. "I miss you. I miss you so much

that sometimes it feels like I can't get my breath. There's so many things I still

need to learn from you." I swiped at my wet cheek with my hand again. "Why didn't you

take better care of yourself?" I scooted closer, laying my cheek on the top of the rough

stone. "I wasn't done needing you," I said. I cried for a few minutes.

Finally, I got to my feet, brushing the dirt off my jeans. "I'll take good care of Charlie

and Clarence. And Captain Jack, too, if I need to keep him." I straightened my

back, standing tall. "I hope you can hear me," I said. "And I hope that you stay

proud of me. I'll come visit again soon, and I'll bring Clarence with me." I turned

to walk away, towards Guthrie's truck. When I'd gone a few steps I stopped walking

and turned back. "I know what an 'Ave' is now. I'll say one for you every night. And I

wish that I'd told you how much I loved you. I hope you knew."

7777777

Guthrie took the long way home. We were mostly both quiet, until I spoke up into

the stillness.

"Do you feel bad?" I asked him. "About the money Doc G left me for school?"

Guthrie gave me an incredulous look. "Why would I feel bad about that?" he asked. "I think

it's fantastic."

I shook my head at my own stupidity. This was Guthrie. Of course he wouldn't feel bad, or

be jealous. "Never mind," I said.

"You mean because you've got all that money waitin' for you?" he persisted.

"Well, yeah," I admitted.

Guthrie looked a little hurt. "Good grief, Har. You must have a fine opinion of me, if

you think that I'd begrudge you an opportunity like that!"

"I didn't mean it like that, Guth!" I was desparate suddenly to convince him that I

didn't really think that about him. "I just meant that what I want for you is what I have. That's

what I meant."

"Okay. I get it. And I really am glad for you."

"About the truck, too?" I asked. "I mean, you had to work so hard to save for yours, and

I get one just more or less handed to me."

We were stopped at the train tracks, and since there was no one behind us, Guthrie

didn't drive over them right away. He turned to look at me. "It's okay, Har," he said, and I could

tell that he really meant it. "Really. I'm glad about it all. Not the way it happened, I mean, with

Doc G and all. But you ought to know that anything that's good for you or your future

makes me happy, too."

I looked at him, my eyes swimming with tears again. I remembered what I'd said

as I left Doc G's grave. I didn't ever want to have that regret again in my life. So, even

though I say it occasionally to certain family members, there's others that I don't say it to often,

or at all. One of those is Guthrie. Even though we're really close to each other,

I couldn't remember the last time that I'd actually said the words to him.

"I love you, Guth," I said, quietly.

Guthrie drove on over the tracks. "I know this," he said, in a jaunty tone, and I smiled a little. Even

if he was going to act joking about it, I knew he'd heard me. That's what was

important.

We hadn't gone more than a mile before he said, "I love you, too."

7

When we drove into the yard, Guthrie parked the truck. Daniel and Evan were sitting on the

hood of the El Camino, watching as Ford tossed a Frisbee to Brutus. Adam and Hannah

were sitting on the porch, and Hannah was holding Isaac, wrapped in a blanket against

the wind.

When we got out, Guthrie loped over to join in the Frisbee throwing, tossing it to Jethro.

Clarence got up from his spot on the porch, and ambled down the stairs, and across

the yard towards me. I crouched down to greet him, rubbing his ears.

"I'll take you next time," I told the old dog, smoothing back the worry lines on his

gray head.

He seemed to understand, and gave my hand a lick.

"Hey, squirt!" Daniel yelled.

I looked towards him, and saw that he and Evan were climbing into the back of the

El Camino. "Come on!" Daniel said. "Let's go for a drive!"

"Yeah, we're feelin' brave!" Evan called.

Guthrie was laughing, and Ford tossed the Frisbee one more time.

"I call shotgun!" Ford said, and climbed into the passenger side of the front seat. Guthrie

leaped up into the back with Daniel and Evan, and Jethro followed.

I stood up, watching all of them with fondness. My heart swelled. I was lucky to

have them. Every single, goofy one of them.

"Don't go too far," Adam called from the porch.

I heard a screech of a hawk overhead, and looked up to see it flying over the barn.

And, as clearly as if he were there beside me, I could hear Doc G's voice in my

mind, asking me, as he had so many times, "Well, Harlie Mac, what do you think? Ready

to get this day started?"

"Come on!" The boys were yelling to me.

I looked at the hawk as it flew out of sight. And I answered Doc G, as I had

so many times, "Yes, sir," I whispered.

And then I waved at Hannah and Adam, and ran to the car, to take my brothers

for a ride.

7777777

This is the conclusion of this story in the life of the McFaddens. This story was very

special to me, and seemed to just keep evolving, getting longer and longer. The end of a story

that has been in my life for eight months is almost like having a child leave home. I thank everybody

who read this, and who responded with reviews. I am so glad that it was enjoyed. At this

point, I have some 'Harlie' and McFadden things in my mind, but only one definite story line in mind.

Anybody who would like to suggest something that they'd like to see Harlie and

the family experience or do, please feel free to suggest. Long live the McFaddens!


End file.
